


April 10th

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lots of Angst, M/M, implied/referenced eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"On March 15th, 20XX, Oikawa Tooru died in a car accident. It was later made known to us that the accident was, unfortunately, deliberate.</p><p>The 23 year old me has walked away with many regrets. I hope that, with the help of this letter, you will be able change your future.</p><p>Sincerely, Iwaizumi Hajime."</p><p> </p><p>(An Orange x Haikyuu!! crossover).</p>
            </blockquote>





	April 10th

**Author's Note:**

> I WANT EVERYONE TO READ THIS BEFORE THEY DELVE INTO THIS FIC !!!!
> 
> Firstly, I want to point out that, although the storyline is based on the manga 'Orange', I changed a lot of it. For those of you who don't know what the manga entails, please note that it's filled with the talk of self harm, suicide attempts, guilt, depression, and the issues surrounding loving/dating someone dealing with a mental illness. 
> 
> As expressed by the tags, please do not read this if you're easily triggered by the exploration of any of those aspects. I don't want to harm anyone. 
> 
> That being said, I mostly wrote this for catharsis, because of my own experiences with all of these. Orange touched me a lot with what it covered and how it handled it, with what it brought out, and with the amount of hope surrounding the story. I probably sound really dumb but I felt like hope was something I really needed to explore, for myself. 
> 
> Hope is important, and this was a good reminder. 
> 
> A few details before I go:
> 
> \- Although the suicide _is_ referenced, remember that there is a happy ending! There is also quite a bit of fluff throughout, to ease you through the heavy stuff.  
>  \- This was originally supposed to be around 10k words but it quickly got out of hand, so I'm really sorry  
> \- I only re-read this three times, so if you find any glaring mistakes, please do point them out  
> \- I hope this story, if you can read it, gives you as much hope as it did for me 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy your read!
> 
> [edit: omg im ....... 100 kudos....... thank you so much ; ;]  
> [editedit: im so sorry about the page breaking in this omg it keeps messing up on me ; ;]

It’s April 10th, Oikawa’s chosen date, when they bury the time capsule as a trio. 

It’s April 10th when Iwaizumi bids his childhood friend goodbye, as he gently places Tooru’s letter in the tin box. 

  

* * *

 

It’s April 10th, 8 years later, when Hajime sees Matsukawa again. 

It’s April 10th when the weight of his regret is doubled by the small, faded picture of Tooru on the shrine at the Oikawas’ house. 

It’s April 10th when the three of them finally decide to return to their old school and dig up what little evidence remains of their happier times. What little evidence remains that they were once friends. 

They’re silent, Hanamaki holding his hand tightly, as Matsukawa busies himself with taking out the small, aluminium box from the dirt. When he takes off the lid, dirt flakes falling to the ground and peppering his shoes, they’re met with the bright white papers that they’d all carefully stored away.

Their letters are surprisingly forward, considering how roundabout their high school selves were. 

   

> _March 12th_
> 
> _Dear future Takahiro, I have one very important question. Do creampuffs still exist? Scratch that one question. Have creampuffs evolved? I hope you still consume at least a whole box of them a week. I also hope finally got off your ass and started studying, so you could finish school and follow Hajime wherever the hell he’s going, to med school probably. It’s already a shame enough that you’re in class 3 when your friends are in classes 5 and 6!_
> 
> _Anyways, we all asked each other to write our wishes, so I’ll put mine in plain and simple: become a psychologist. You know why._

 

The three of them laugh weakly. Hanamaki’s hand tightens around Hajime's wrist.

    

> _March 8th_
> 
> _Hey, Issei from the future, how’s it shaking?_

 

Matsukawa chokes on his spit as he reads it out, mumbles a small ‘ _Did I really write this_?’ to himself, before he continues.   

  

> _I have a little bit of a feeling that, just like for your entrance exams, you were too lazy to actually study for your university entrance exams and barely passed. Hence, my wish: to study something you actually want to do, and not end up on the streets._

 

“Close,” Matsukawa whispers, idly thumbing the edge of the paper. “I studied visual arts. Not quite what I wanted, but I had fun.”

Hajime picks his own letter up.

 

> _I hope you’re studying medicine, you fuckwit._

 

This time, the trio’s laughter is genuine, because _of course_ that’s what Hajime would have written to himself. He’d always been the one who knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life, from the beginning of high school onward. 

   

> _Now, my wish. For you to stay friends with Oikawa, and Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. I hope you idiots will continue to support each other-_

 

Hajime chokes up. 

There is a moment of silence. 

“What did Oikawa write?” Matsukawa asks quietly. They reach into the capsule. Oikawa’s is covered in small stickers, aliens and ufo’s and the Starfleet insignia sealing it. _Typical_ , Iwaizumi thinks.

The date in the corner reads _March 4th._  

   

> _Hey, people years into the future_ ,

 

Hajime reads out, and cringes at the amount of kaomojis drawn on the page. 

 

> _Are you all well? Are you still friends? I bet Iwa-chan’s got wrinkles from how much he frowned all day! Have Mattsun’s eyebrows stopped looking like caterpillars? Has Hanamaki finally beaten Iwa-chan at arm wrestling?_

 

They laugh. 

  

> _I feel like I should write something important in this letter. Something that you all can remember me by. My feelings, probably?_
> 
> _So here it is: I admire all of you. All of your resolves, your abilities to make jokes, your lighthearted style of life. I wish I could have been like you. I know that in the future, you will all still be laughing with each other, because that’s the type of incredible people you are. I hope you are still together. I hope our bonds were strong enough to hold even through the hardest of times._

 

Hajime ignores the tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“What about his wish?” Matsukawa asks quietly.

Hajime scans the page, turns the letter around only to find it blank. “That’s it. There’s nothing.”

“Nothing about his future?” 

Hanamaki’s crying again. Hajime shakes his head, he can’t stop the onslaught now. He hears a sob and idly wonders if it’s him. Somewhere to his right, Takahiro shifts to grab his hand. Matsukawa whispers to himself, hands clenched tightly into fists by his side. 

“Damn it, damn it, _damn it_.”

* * *

 The story begins with a single letter. 

“Hajime,” his mother calls out to him as she makes her way to his room. He turns to see that she’s holding an envelope. It’s simple, and white, and the only thing written on it is at the bottom right corner. A small _Iwaizumi Hajime,_ in a scrawl similar to his, and yet much, much neater.

“A confession?” she teases, ruffling his hair. Iwaizumi bats her hand away, blushing to his neck. 

“Nobody would confess to my home address!” he shouts, but she’s already skipping out of the room, giggling to herself about her son’s potential love interest. 

He eyes the letter warily, before he opens it. 

 

 

> _To the me who is currently in his first year of high school, how’s it going?_

 

Hajime scoffs. What kind of a sick prank was this? He knows it’s no longer April 1st. Had someone just been late on fucking with him?

  

> _I'm not going to beat around the bush, because this is going to sound seriously weird. The person writing this letter is, well, you, or me. You from the future. 8 years into the future, in fact. The me writing this is 22 years old (bordering on 23!), and studying medicine. At least you know you make it this far, right?_
> 
> _Except, you almost didn't, if I'm being honest. The you in the future is living with an assload of regrets._
> 
> _No matter how crazy, how stupid this all sounds, please read this letter to the end. Promise me you’ll at least do that._
> 
> _I have something to ask of you. Something that would get rid of 90% of my problems. Of course, it'll probably add a few more problems to the pile too, some, Oikawa-related problems, but I can’t live knowing I could have done something to change the way I am right now._
> 
> _I certainly hope you don’t repeat the same mistakes I have._
> 
> _Enclosed in this letter is a timeline, personally written from my memory and the truckload of diary entries I know you keep, a timeline of events that have been burned into my mind from thinking, and thinking, and overthinking about them, again, and again, and again._
> 
> _I will write exactly what happened to you that fateful year, and what you should have done to get on the right path._
> 
>  

Hajime stops reading. Growling “this is fucking ridiculous,” under his breath, he chucks the letter to the side and tries to get back to doing the necessary paperwork that his teachers had handed to him earlier in the day. 

A letter from his future self? 8 years into the future?

He scoffs. 

“My ass,” he grumbles.

Except, he can’t concentrate. The words he’d previously read so easily begin to swim on the page, to mix up and intertwine. The idea of a ‘fateful’ year and the ‘many regrets’ that his future self carries permeates his every thought. With another grumble, he reaches over and unfolds the letter again. 

 

> _April 6th._
> 
> _I woke up to Oikawa calling me in a panic because he spilled milk on his uniform and asked to borrow my blazer, complaining about the way milk stinks when it dries up._

 

Hajime's stomach churns. That’s exactly what'd happened. Tooru still hasn’t returned the uniform, promising instead to clean it before he gave it back.

 

> _When we got into class, Oikawa was as obnoxious as usual. The entrance ceremony went by without a hitch, and by lunchtime, Oikawa’d already saved 30 different girls’ numbers on his phone. He received a call after the last class, and acted strange during the walk home. I asked him about it and he simply shrugged me off. I didn’t pressure him about it because he really didn’t seem like he wanted to talk._
> 
>  

Hajime clamps a hand over his mouth. That had happened, too. He hadn’t put any pressure on Tooru because of the way his voice broke when he’d whispered ' _not now, Iwa-chan_.'

 

> _Oikawa didn’t come to school for three days after that._

 

Hajime's eyebrows shoot up at the last sentence of the entry. He re-reads it once, twice, in an attempt to make sure that what he's seeing is real. It was very unlike Tooru to skip class, especially when it came to the first few days of school. Tooru was always the one insisting that first-impressions be made perfectly. Scoffing, he throws the letter somewhere amongst the clutter of stuff he’s got under his desk, and decides to call it a night. 

  

* * *

 

 Tooru doesn’t attend school the next day. 

Or the day after that.

Or the day after that. 

Hajime's tempted to burn the letter, just for being right. 

He tries to reach his best friend through multiple means. He dials his phone number on multiple occasions during the day, and when Tooru doesn’t pick up, he decides to take the matter into his own hands and walk over to his house. When he gets there, he notices immediately that the lights are turned off, even though the sun has set long ago.

Nobody answers when he rings the doorbell, even when he does so multiple times in a row, the way he knows the bell gets so annoying it will even pull Tooru out of bed, no matter how tired and grumpy Tooru feels.

When Hajime comes home, he asks his mother, “Where the hell is Oikawa’s family?”

She looks hesitant to tell him. “I-It’s not my place, or the right time to tell you, Hajime,” she says. 

So he goes to the letter. 

 

> _April 9th._
> 
> _Oikawa came back. He told me that he was sick, and put on that stupid smile I just wanted punch away. Now, I want you to make it clear you know he’s lying, but don’t ask him what happened. He won’t tell you, and you’ll just make him mad. Mom's going to tell you in the evening anyways. There’s nothing else you can really do for him, at this point._
> 
> _That afternoon, we had volleyball tryouts. I know you plan on taking them with him. After all, what ambitions has Tooru ever tackled without you?_

 

Hajime inhales shakily.

 

> _But for the sake of it, I’ll say this again._ **_Please_ ** _join the club. He’ll need you, and this is the reason why:_
> 
> _We met two other first years during the tryouts. Matsukawa Issei and Hanamaki Takahiro. I wasn’t on the same team as Oikawa during the tryout matches. His team lost when I spiked past Matsukawa’s block. I heard the coach talk about his impressive ability as a setter, but Oikawa didn’t. He freaked out instead, and ended up taking his anger out on Matsukawa in the changing rooms. Because I was too busy listening to the coaches praising Oikawa, I didn’t stop the fight until Matsukawa was already in tears._

 

The next few sentences are underlined. 

 

> _That’s my first regret. The moment he heads over to the changing rooms, follow him. Interrupt the fight. Don’t let him repeat what he did with Kageyama. It’ll eat him up._

 

Hajime can barely sleep that night. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning, when he arrives at his classroom, Tooru's standing outside room 1-5, proudly recalling his sick experience to a group of fawning girls. Hajime elbows his way through the thick crowd of people, before he raises a hand and slaps Tooru on the back of the head. 

“Where the hell were you?” he asks, voice more gruff than he'd like it to be. 

Tooru beams at him, a practiced, million volt smile. Future Hajime was right. He wants to punch it clean off. 

“Just sick, Iwa-chan,” he says, flippant. “It was a really bad flu. Can you believe it? I was bed-ridden for two days! And then mom forced me to stay at home for another!” He clicks his tongue, wags his finger. "Don't worry though, I came back just in time for volleyball tryouts!"

_‘Liar_ ,’ Hajime thinks. Tooru always expects to be pampered when he’s sick. Tooru  _needs_ Hajime. If he’d been sick, he’d have called, demanded a serving of miso soup and three packets of milk bread, and Hajime would have complied, as he always has, and always will. He would have gone to the convenience store, and picked up the food plus an extra pack of tissues, just in case. He would have sat by Tooru's bedside while they watched movies on Tooru's laptop, making idle commentary and laughing at Tooru's nasally voice. He would have run his hand through Tooru's hair, just the way he knows his best friend likes it, until he heard Tooru's breathing settle into a soft, even snore.  

So he does not, for one second, believe the lie that Tooru is trying to feed him. 

He pointedly looks at his friend, who raises his hands in mock defence. Hajime doesn’t push, just as the letter states, and instead gives him one pat on the back before stepping into his respective classroom.

_I'm glad you're okay,_ it means. 

As he turns away, he misses the way that, for a moment, Tooru's eyes widen in surprise, before his lips settle into a relaxed, gentle smile. One reserved for only Hajime. Hajime sits at his desk and buries his head in his hands. He can’t believe that the letter was right. _Again_. 

Once the bell signals the end of class, Tooru barely gives him the time to stand up from his seat and stretch out the kinks from sitting for so long, before he’s rushing over to his table, club application clutched tightly between trembling fingers. Hajime follows him as they walk to the gym, his own application in a folder in his bag. He changes into his clothes and makes note that Tooru doesn’t have his own volleyball gear with him, and is instead using the school's sports clothes. 

Before he can ask the reason for its absence, the door to the changing room opens and two more voices join Tooru's to bounce off the walls. When Hajime turns around, he sees two boys walking toward them, another pair of first years, grinning at each other and bumping shoulders with each step they take. 

He greets them, and they’re quick to introduce themselves.

“Hanamaki. Hanamaki Takahiro,” the one with the sandy hair says, bending at the waist in a flourish. The other wrings his hands and looks to the side, not nearly half as confident as his companion.

“Matsukawa Issei,” he says quietly. 

Hajime tries to force his own name out of his throat. He can’t. 

_Fuck,_ is the only word running through his mind. It has to be a coincidence. He can’t believe that the letter would, or could, be so accurate _once again_. It takes Hajime a while, as well as Tooru taking the initiative and introducing himself, before he can finally reach out and shake hands with the other two newcomers. 

When the coach calls them over, he feels Tooru's hands wring the back of his shirt. 

True to the letter’s words, Tooru and Hajime are separated into different teams. As they play, Hajime can feel the coach’s intense gaze land on him more than a few times. The hairs on his arms raise, the feeling of discomfort not even fading when a particularly good spike of his lands on the opposing court, earning a few ‘aah’s from the upperclassmen watching the game play off. 

The Matsukawa in question isn’t bad at all. It’s obvious that his preferred position is as a middle blocker, with his height and his timely jumps, so being placed into the role of a wing spiker is obviously uncomfortable for him. Still, he lacks in experience, his spikes are weak, and Hajime quickly takes advantage of whatever gaps the other boy leaves in his opponent’s defence. His years at Kitagawa Daichii are finally paying off, and he can't help but smirk with pride when he lands yet another spike, this time pushing past the block of a second year.

He does score the last point with a wipe off Matsukawa, winning the second straight set for their team. As the letter foretells, Tooru begins panicking the moment they’re called off the court. He beelines to Hajime's side, picking up the stray equipment left behind by their upperclassmen. 

“I’m not going to make it,” he hisses, barely coherent enough to help Hajime fold the net. “I was _atrocious_ out there. I couldn't sync up with any of the teammates. Do you think the coach noticed? I think he did. He's going to put me on the bench for so long I'm going to be skin and bones before I can even think about stepping on the court.”

“You did fine,” Hajime argues, but Tooru hears none of it, mumbling to himself about potential improvements and staying behind to practice. Tooru puts the equipment away and leaves for the changing rooms without waiting for him. Hajime's heart stills when he sees Matsukawa and Hanamaki closely following behind, bumping shoulders and laughing between themselves. Hajime still has the cart of volleyballs to put away before he can leave.

_“What an impressive setter!”_

The coach’s voice startles him out of his panicked thoughts. The supervisor agrees with a small whistle, eyes locked onto the door to the changing rooms. Hajime knows not to listen any further than that if he wants to avoid a catastrophe. He heads to the changing room as fast as possible, tripping over his own feet as he runs to the doors. The fight is already happening, he knows it because Tooru's voice rings loud and clear through the hallway. 

“Don’t you _dare_ tell me I did a great job!”

Hajime speeds up his pace. He can still stop this.

He runs into the room to find Tooru, with his hands twisted in the front of Matsukawa’s shirt. Matsukawa's otherwise unexpressive face is pale, and his eyes are widened to the point where more white is visible than colour. Hanamaki’s beside them, trying to pry Tooru off of his friend. 

“Oikawa.”

Hajime's voice cuts short his best friend’s rant. Hajime takes in a deep breath, sees Tooru mimic him. It's an exercise that they've often had to do together, matching their breathing to each other's in order to calm either Tooru or Hajime down until they're coherent enough to return to reality. They've done this on playgrounds, on the court, in the changing rooms, behind convenience stores and even in classrooms. They know the drill. 

“You don’t mean any of this,” Hajime finally states, quietly. 

Tooru's eyes shift, from Hajime back up to Matsukawa. His bottom lip trembles as he untangles his hands from the other boy’s uniform. He remains silent as he picks up the rest of his discarded clothes, ignoring the fact that he’s only half changed out of his sweaty shirt, and walks out of the room. 

Hajime sighs, lifting a hand to run it through his cropped hair. “I’m sorry about him.”

Matsukawa shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he says. 

Hanamaki steps between the both of them, placing a gentle hand against Matsukawa’s chest despite the anger evident on his face.

“No it’s not okay,” he argues. “What the hell is that guy’s problem?”

“Rough week,” Hajime tries to explain, as if that somehow excused Tooru's violent behaviour. “Oikawa’s always had trouble dealing with failure. It’s not your fault, it really isn’t. He didn’t mean to make it sound that way either. He feels responsible for how people play. It’s-“  He’s interrupted by his ringtone - a simple text from Tooru, telling him where he is. “It’s complicated,” Hajime finishes lamely, pocketing his phone once again. He lifts his shirt over his head, reaches over to grab his clean uniform when Matsukawa sits next to him. 

“He’s a really good setter,” Matsukawa says. He’s not looking at Hajime, opting instead to study his water bottle. Hajime sighs once again.

“Yeah, he is.”

  

* * *

 

Tooru is crying when Iwaizumi finally finds him, frantically wiping at his cheeks as he struggles to breathe. 

“I can’t believe I just did that, Iwa-chan,” he blubbers, the moment Iwaizumi’s within earshot. “I _assaulted_ someone. _Again._ ”

The word 'again' hits Hajime straight in the chest. Whereas he'd been able to intervene between Tooru and Kageyama, he hadn't been able to stop Tooru this time.

“Apologise to him,” he says, plopping down next to his friend. “He’s fine, by the way. No emotional trauma on his end. No 'Oh god, I hate Oikawa Tooru, I'm going to make his life miserable!' speech either.”

Tooru nods. He spends a while looking down at the floor, reaching up periodically to wipe his cheeks before dropping his hands again. Hajime belatedly notices that Tooru has changed, out here, and is still using his blazer.  They sit in idle silence, listening to the sound of the occasional car driving around the school grounds, before fading away into nightly silence. Tooru finally turns to him, with those eyes that see through every wall Hajime'd ever managed to build up.

“Your timing was impeccable, Iwa-chan,” he says. “You always swoop in at the right time and save the day. Like superman.”

Hajime snorts. “I’m nothing like that. Superman looks out for everyone, and saves whoever he can. I mostly look out for you.”

Tooru leans over to rest his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He smells like his deodorant, and Hajime almost kicks himself for noticing.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Hajime fights the blush creeping up with cheeks with vigour, gripping his pants tightly and clearing his throat. “I’ll always swoop in for you, dumbass,” he mutters, ignoring Tooru’s resulting giggle.

 

* * *

 

When Hajime comes home, h is house is empty. The lights are out and his dinner, pre-prepared, sits in the fridge, accompanied by a small sticky note.

_I’ll be home soon,_ it reads in his mother’s curved handwriting. He eats in silence, occasionally glancing over at his phone. Tooru should be calling any minute now, talking about the rest of his walk home (although it wasn't even a whole hundred meters), what he had for dinner, and how annoying he finds the amount of homework he has to catch up on. 

His mother comes home 30 minutes after he does. She looks tired, worn out from work and her back is slouched. When she moves to sit on the couch, Hajime immediately makes his way to the kitchen and sets the kettle to boil. 

“Oikawa-kun,” his mother begins, looking at him from over the back of the couch, earning his full attention. “You asked what was happening with him. It’s his mother. She’s- she’s sick.”

Knowing how close his mother and Tooru's mother are makes the news even more painful for him to hear.

“Her mind is… not healthy, at the moment,” his mother explains slowly, as if she were rolling each of the words around her mouth, trying to find the most appropriate one. “She’s having a hard time keeping herself happy.” Hajime feels his mother’s gaze burn into the back of his head when the kettle begins to hiss.

“Please take care of Tooru in the weeks to come. He’s going to need it.”

  

* * *

 

Hajime sits on his bed, reading the entry for the next day. 

  

> _April 10th._
> 
> _Oikawa hurt himself during PE. I dragged him over to the infirmary and helped with his ankle. It was just twisted, but Oikawa being the drama queen he is, asked me to carry him back to class. Normally, I’d just kick him in the shins. But this time, I want you to do it. He has something important to say._

 

Hajime scans the rest of the page, but his eyes fall on a single sentence. One that makes his heart stutter out of time and his throat constrict. 

 

* * *

 

Hajime isn’t surprised when Tooru falls over during their co-joined PE lessons, and he’s left dragging the other boy to the infirmary. 

“Idiot,” Hajime hisses, over and over but Tooru takes the insults in stride and laughs behind him. Once his best friend is seated on a chair, comfortable, Hajime reaches for an ice pack and presses it against Tooru’s ankle, earning himself a small gasp from Tooru. Hajime grits his teeth, averts his eyes from the swollen flesh of Tooru's leg.

“Idiot,” he says again, for good measure. 

“You shouldn’t bully an injured person, Iwa-chan. This is why girls don’t like you.”

Hajime can feel a vein throb in his temple, along with the involuntary tightening of his jaw. 

“Then stop being such a dumbass, and maybe I won’t _have_ to bully you.” 

Tooru huffs, crosses his arms over his chest. “What a brute!”

Ignoring the jab, Hajime keeps the cooling pad pressed against Tooru's skin until the swelling subsides. Once it does, he stands up and places it back in the fridge. Tooru still hasn’t asked him for a piggyback ride. 

_Has the future changed already?_ he wonders. 

“Come on, let’s go,” he says, opening the door. 

“Iwa-chan!”

He turns around to find Tooru groping uselessly at the air. His eyes are glassy. Hajime's heart clenches. 

“Carry me, Iwa-chan. I’m injured.”

Oikawa’s voice is fragile. Iwaizumi feels like his next breath might shatter the boy in front of him. The overprotective part of his mind quickly conjures up the image of a broken Tooru, and a desperate Hajime picking up the pieces, trying to put them back together before Tooru ends up scattering to the wind.

“Idiot,” he whispers as he kneels in front of Tooru. “I’m shorter than you.” Tooru shrugs, and Hajime makes a show of relenting, letting his shoulders sag with a sigh. “Come on, then.”

Tooru giggles, bracing himself on Hajime's shoulders as he climbs on. “Iwa-chan,” he whispers against the back of Hajime's neck, warm breath brushing over his skin. Hajime can only grunt in response as he steadies himself on two feet. Tooru used to be a lot heavier than he currently is. He's light. Scarily so. “You’re always there for me. It's like you never look away from me.”

Hajime's not sure if he was meant to hear Tooru's words.

"It's selfish, but I don't really want you to look away from me either. I wish you would look at me. Always."

“You don't have to wish for it, idiot. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll always be looking at you.”

Hajime's heart is beating so hard against his chest, he thinks his ribs might crack. His mind wanders to that one sentence, the one that he'd read the night prior, the one that won’t leave his subconscious alone.

  

> _That day, I realised I was in love with my best friend. You’ll probably come to the same conclusion, too._

 

Hajime clenches his jaw. 

Why did that letter always have to be _right?_  

 

* * *

 

> _April 14th. We saw Matsukawa and Hanamaki in the hallway. They looked like they wanted to talk to us, but Oikawa went and apologised on his own. I didn’t have to do anything about it, which was nice. A step forward for him, I suppose. We found out that we have a lot in common with the two of them._
> 
> _That afternoon, they asked us to come grab some food with them after class. Oikawa accepted with stars in his eyes and palpable excitement._
> 
> _This time, I want you to refuse on Oikawa’s behalf._

 

Hajime frowns. 

 

> _I know it sounds bad, especially because it’s denying Oikawa the opportunity to bond with someone other than you. But he’ll get his chance. This time, please, please refuse. Tell him to go home. Tell him it’s his day off or something. Don’t let him go._

 

Future Hajime is stupid, he decides. He’ll still try, though. 

 

* * *

 

Hajime wakes up to a frantic knock on his door and an annoying voice calling out to him, and realises that, for the first time in a few years, he’s overslept. Tooru laughs at him as he pulls on his uniform hastily, not taking the time to button his shirt up properly. 

“Iwa-chan, you should go to bed earlier,” Tooru chides as they walk, side to side. Hajime frowns, looking down at his buttons, trying to do them up before they run into the bulk of students walking to school. He doesn't exactly want people to point out the slight jut of his stomach. 

“You’re not one to talk,” he retorts. 

“You know,” Tooru says gently, almost hesitantly. “I’m glad the volleyball club is going to give us Mondays off, for practice.” 

Hajime stops fiddling with his buttons in shock. 

“What? Mr. Overwork wants a break?”

Tooru laughs sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“It really sounds weird coming from me, doesn’t it?”

  

* * *

 

When they get to school, they spot Hanamaki and Matsukawa. The duo are leaning against the wall, side by side. Matsukawa laughs at something on Hanamaki’s phone, leans over to point at the screen. The motion brushes his shoulder against the other boy’s, and Hajime feels something twist painfully in his chest at witnessing their interaction. There's nothing different from what he and Tooru do, of course. But he's known, from the moment they met, that there was something a little more special going on between Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Something a little more than simple best-friendship. Something that he's found himself wishing for, with Tooru.

Tooru looks nervous for a split second, before he plasters his award-winning smile on his face and tells Hajime to wait right where he is, at his shoe locker. Hajime watches as his best friend bounds over to Matsukawa. For a moment, the latter looks surprised, but as Tooru talks, his expression mellows into a gentle smile. He pats Tooru on the shoulder, says something, and Tooru’s smile brightens from plastic to genuine.

When Tooru returns to his side, he’s humming to himself. “What’d you tell him?” Hajime asks. Tooru winks at him. 

“I followed your advice and apologised like you told me to, Iwa-chan!”

 

* * *

 

Tooru invites the other first year duo to eat lunch with them in Hajime's classroom. He does indeed find out that they like a lot of the same things, as the letter had predicted. Hanamaki, like Tooru, very much believes in aliens, and they spend the whole of lunchtime speaking excitedly over each other, trying to convince Matsukawa of their existence, despite the fact that Matsukawa never argued otherwise. 

In the process, Hajime notices the way Hanamaki steals half of Matsukawa’s lunch. He feels another tug at his heart. 

“Want to get some food after school?” Hanamaki offers as he types something up on his phone. 

Tooru lights up. 

“Yes!” he exclaims, leaning over to grab Hanamaki by the forearms. “I would love to!”

“Oikawa, we have homework to finish,” Hajime tries, but the other boys all turn to him with frowns on their faces. Hajime raises his hands in defence, but Tooru's unrelenting. 

“We can still go for food, can’t we, Iwa-chan? Usually we have practice at this time of day, anyway. Since it got cancelled, we should take advantage of the free time, don't you think?”

Hajime is half estatic at the fact that Tooru is thinking of spending an afternoon doing something other than practicing jump serves until he drops, or doing homework until he drops, but the words in the letter push him to try and refuse again. Hajime  shakes his head. 

“Yeah, but I want to go home.”

Tooru pouts. 

“And you should too,” Hajime adds. 

Tooru's pout intensifies, bottom lip wobbling too convincingly, before he turns back to Hanamaki. “I’ll go,” he says. “Even if Iwa-chan, party-pooper extraordinaire over there, won’t.”

Hajime feels a vein throb in his forehead, but as he watches the interaction between his best friend and Hanamaki, he doesn’t have the heart to keep saying no. Not when Tooru's eyes twinkle like the stars, his cheeks are flushed, and his smile is so sincere, so devoid of ulterior motives. It's been a while since Hajime has seen that expression on him.

“Alright, I’ll come,” Hajime gives in, and Tooru  _beams_. 

Nothing goes wrong, that afternoon. They eat, they talk, they exchange phone numbers and start a chat group of their own. The first message Hanamaki sends them has Tooru doubled over in laughter, for a reason that Hajime cannot understand, b ecause it simply reads:

From: Hanamaki Takahiro (17:55).

                ** _( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_**

On the way home, Tooru's head resting against his shoulder as they sit side by side on the metro, Hajime wonders why the letter was so intent on leaving Tooru out of the experience.

  

* * *

 

Tooru doesn’t come to school the next day. The letter doesn’t say anything about that occurrence, although Hajime notes that there is a distinct lack of entries for the week following future-him's desperate pleas to prevent Tooru from going out on that afternoon. Hajime spends his lessons wondering whether he’d already started changing the future that drastically. 

He comes home to find his mother back from work a lot earlier than normal. Her eyes are rimmed red and the skin around them is puffy. She waves him over with a small, pained smile on her face. 

“Hajime,” she says, and her voice breaks. Hajime reaches over and places a hand on her shoulder. “We need to talk. About Tooru.”

His stomach drops. 

“I assume Tooru didn’t come to school today?” she queries. Hajime nods. His mother takes one shuddering breath, beckons him closer. He kneels at her feet and rests his head against the downward slope of her thigh. Her hand hesitantly starts running through his hair, as she takes a few breaths to calm herself. The motion is soothing, although it does little to quell the pounding of Hajime's heart.

“Tooru’s mother,” she explains, “I told you that she has been struggling with herself for a while. With her husband going abroad so much, she became more and more dependent on Tooru. When school started, and Tooru turned his attention to volleyball again, she got desperate. Her doctor suggested she go see someone for her illness, but she refused. Yesterday, while you and Tooru were spending time together after school she-“

His mother’s breath hitches. 

“She killed herself, Hajime.”

  

* * *

 

Hajime lies down on his bed. His insides burn. He wonders if his guilt is physically eating away at him. He wonders what would happen to him if it was. 

So that’s what his future self had been so desperate to prevent. 

His phone is silent at his side. Usually, by this time, Tooru would be spamming him with kaomojis, about the thoughts that he'd gathered and put on hold during the day, only to unleash them on Hajime once the clock reached 10P.M. 

Now, it sits next to his hand, quiet. He can’t bring himself to read the letter about the next day. It’s only when he gets into bed, after finally gathering the will to shower and brush his teeth, that his phone vibrates.

From: Shittykawa (23:46).

_Why do bad things happen to good people, Hajime?_

To: Shittykawa (23:56)

_I’m so sorry, Tooru. Call if you need me. I’ll be here._

Tooru doesn’t call. 

 

* * *

  

Hajime comes up with the courage to read the letter in the morning, after breakfast. He notices that there is a break in the letter - a single added page. It’s a short, hastily written paragraph, sloppily added at the last second, between the flowing script of the timeline.  

 

> _I think I should explain why I wrote this letter. You see, it’s because I don’t want the 15 year old me to carry a lifetime of regret. It’s because 8 years later, in my reality, Oikawa Tooru is no longer a presence in my life._

 

Hajime clamps a hand over his mouth, his stomach dropping at the image his mind unhelpfully conjures. Could Oikawa…? 

He keeps reading, ignoring the painful constricting of his throat.

 

> _Please don’t let the important moments slide by._

 

There’s nothing on the following week. 

 

* * *

  

The next few days go by excruciatingly slowly, for Hajime. The more time he spends without hearing from Tooru, the more that burning guilt inside him spreads, until he finds it hard to eat, hard to _breathe_. 

He does receive a simple text from him, on the Wednesday, saying that he was attending the funeral. That day, Hajime spends the majority of his lunch break in the bathroom, locked in a cubicle, trying his hardest not to cry too loudly, for fear of getting noticed. 

“Do you know when Oikawa’s coming back?” Matsukawa asks as they change for volleyball practice. Hanamaki slaps him on the back with a heated “ _hush_!”. 

“He’s coming back next week,” is all Hajime is willing to share.

 

* * *

 

Hajime reads the letter for future entries. There is only a small paragraph about Tooru's return, warning Hajime that his behaviour would seem artificial at best, stuttering at worst. 

 

> _He'll ask to come to your house, no doubt to avoid having to come home to a quiet place. Let him stay as long as he wants, but make sure he does go home, and that he does get some sleep. It's going to be a tough few weeks for him, don't make it any harder than it has to be._

  

* * *

  

True to the letter’s word, when Tooru does come back on the following Monday, his behaviour seems so artificial Hajime can only describe it as mechanical. He laughs when he has to, smiles when he has to, and pokes fun at Hajime when they both feel obliged to banter. He avoids the topic of his absence, but if pressed too hard, confesses that he was simply slacking off. 

“School was overwhelming for a bit, sorry,” he says to a group of girls, fiddling with his phone and not meeting anyone’s gaze. When people begin to push more, when they point out that it’s only been a few weeks since the beginning of school and that their workload wasn't actually that terrible, Hajime has to jump to his defence. 

Tooru does ask to go to Hajime's house after school, and doesn’t leave until 9, when the sun has set and the streetlights glow a dull yellow above their heads. 

Hajime sends him a text at 11PM. 

  
To: Shittykawa (23:00).

            _Go to sleep._

He doesn’t get a reply.

 

* * *

 

 

Hajime unfolds the letter carefully, looking for the next entry. His future self asks for a simple favour. 

  

> _Now, I know that I told you not to make these weeks any harder on him, but please, for the love of all that is holy, act normal around him. Push him around, slap him when he’s being stupid, call him Trashykawa and Shittykawa. Don’t do what I did. Don’t make the mistake of treating him like something fragile. He’ll just get desperate to prove you wrong, and overwork himself again._

  

* * *

 

When Hajime walks out of his house the following morning, Tooru's waiting for him. It’s funny, when he thinks about it. Most people expect Tooru to have the most complicated morning routine, involving hairspray, makeup and facial masks, but he’s not lying when he says he woke up looking the way he does. Apart from the mild layer of concealer under his eyes, and a few strokes of hair brushing, Tooru's beauty is, unfortunately for Hajime, completely natural.

Which usually means that he’s always ready to pick Hajime up, rather than the other way around. 

Today, however, he looks tired, with bags under his eyes so dark, not even makeup could hope to hide them. 

“I told you to go to sleep,” Hajime snaps, the moment he walks past his gate. 

“I couldn’t,” Tooru answers sheepishly. “So I studied instead.”

They walk in silence for a minute before Tooru chuckles. 

“What?” Hajime growls. 

“You’re so perceptive Iwa-chan. Here I was, hoping you wouldn't notice through my brilliant acting. You can see right through me, can't you?”

“Your acting is just as shitty as your personality, Trashkawa.”

Tooru laughs despite the insult. It almost feels normal. Almost.

“That hurts, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime doesn't miss the way Tooru whispers an additional ' _at least it means you're watching'_. 

 

* * *

 

As the week progresses, Tooru seems to slowly regain his ability to interact comfortably with other people. Hajime knows that he’s still putting on a facade, and can’t blame him, either. _Nobody gets over a death easily_ , his mother’d said. _Especially not your own mother’s._

His future self seems to think the same way, as it is written all over the next few entries. 

 

> _He will always be hurting. Always. At every second of every day. You need to remember that. Don’t you dare forget._

 

But Hajime also notices the effort that Tooru is making. The effort in how he shows up to practice despite how obviously tired, and worn out he is. The effort in how he does not ignore those who talk to him during the day, keeping up friendly banter and accepting his fans' attention despite his obvious exhaustion. The effort in how he shrugs off their intrusive questions without getting angry, but with a smile and a gentle shift of the conversation. 

And Hajime is so, so proud of him for that.

  

* * *

 

> _April 24th._
> 
> _Both of us were accepted into the volleyball club's second string. We celebrated with milk bread over lunchtime. (If you don't complain about it, Tooru_ **_will_** _make fun of you for it). I didn’t notice that day, but, according to Hanamaki, Oikawa was apparently looking at me while we were eating. I want you to look back at him. I want you to show him that you’re looking out for him too._

 

When the opportunity arises, Hajime does just that. When their eyes meet, Tooru's smile is so gentle Hajime has to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. 

 

* * *

 

Hajime works hard to keep treating Oikawa without a difference, despite the guilt eating away at his insides for doing so. His usual gruff demeanour doesn't change, and he still kicks Tooru's ankles when he's being stupid. But sometimes, sometimes he wishes he could simply run his hands through Tooru's feather-soft hair, grab him by the back of the neck and press their foreheads together. He wishes he could whisper encouragements into Tooru's skin, tell him that he is  _there_ , and that he isn't leaving. That Tooru isn't alone, will never be alone. 

He doesn't, though. 

 

> _April 30th. Oikawa received his first confession of the year. After coming back from meeting with the girl at lunchtime, he asked me for my opinion on her. I want you to be honest with your feelings.  You’ll both be miserable otherwise._
> 
>  

Hajime breath catches in his throat. 

“Be honest with your feelings,” he repeats, weakly. 

 

* * *

 

 The confession does happen, not that it surprises Hajime at all. It doesn't surprise him either to find out that he does hate every second of it. In the morning, as they both make their way to their respective classroom, Hanamaki and Matsukawa attempt to greet them, but are shoved aside by a large group of girls all pushing each other, elbows digging into ribs as they giggle. 

Then, a single girl steps out of the group and approaches Tooru with a blush high on her cheekbones. She hands him a letter, a pink envelope sealed with a heart shaped sticker. Tooru accepts it cheerfully, although he doesn’t have the time to thank her before she’s bolted, closely followed by the group of squealing girls. 

“My first confession, Iwa-chan!”

Tooru's smile is gentle as he pulls the sticker off the envelope and takes the letter out of it.

“Meet me outside the football field at lunchtime, huh,” he muses. Hajime wants to rip that letter to pieces, burn it, pick up its ashes and scatter them to the wind, where they will never be found.

_Be honest with your feelings,_ the letter said. He almost scoffs. As if he could do that.

“What do you think, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime's caught off guard. Didn’t the letter say that Tooru would ask for his opinion _after_ getting confessed to?

“Huh?”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Don’t ask _me,_ dumbass,” he growls. Tooru's smile falters, the slightest chip in his composure. Hajime knows he's one of the only people who can break his armour this easily. He doesn't let guilt stop him,though.

“Maybe I’ll go, then,” Tooru says quietly. 

When Tooru walks away, Hajime turns to find Matsukawa and Hanamaki looking at him, in a way that makes his skin crawl. He feels as if they can see straight through him, straight through his tough friend act. Straight through the fact that he isn't as uninterested as he's trying to seem.

It's almost as if they know everything. 

  

* * *

 

The letter wasn’t lying about him feeling miserable. His heart drops when Tooru greets him during the final few minutes of their lunch break, cheeks flushed and the nameless, faceless girl’s hand clutched tightly in his. 

Hajime can’t even look Tooru in the eye. 

So he doesn’t. 

 

* * *

 

The next day, Hajime feels hesitant to even touch Tooru. They’re eating lunch with Hanamaki, Matsukawa being off taking a make up test somewhere, when Tooru brings it up. 

“You didn’t slap me when I winked at you today, Iwa-chan. How come?” he asks, slinging an arm over Hajime's shoulders and bringing the whole of his bodyweight down on Hajime. If Tooru notices the way he tenses, he doesn’t make a show of it. "Are you feeling sick, Iwa-chan? Did aliens finally take over your personality and turn you into a loving best friend?"

“Wouldn’t want to make your girlfriend jealous,” Hajime answers gruffly. Tooru laughs, tightening his hug, the hand at Hajime's weakly grabbing a hold of his uniform. 

“Only you get to treat me the way you do, Iwa-chan. If my girlfriend slapped me around like that, I wouldn’t stay with her.”

Hajime hopes that Tooru can’t see the blush making its way down his neck, but knowing him, nothing goes by unnoticed.

 

* * *

 

Oikawa doesn’t really talk about his girlfriend to him at all. Hajime's confused, considering the first thing his best friend would normally do is gloat about how great his relationship is and how Hajime really should just be jealous. That’s what he’d done back at Kitagawa Daichii. 

Why wasn’t he doing it now?

  

> _March 2nd. I saw Oikawa and his girlfriend kissing for the first time. I wonder if you’ll see the same._

 

The letter crumples under Hajime's tight grip. 

He does.

 

* * *

 

> _March 12th. Oikawa and his girlfriend got into a fight. If it happens, please talk to him after that. Let him know you’ll be there for him, even if facing your own feelings hurts. Don’t let him walk home on his own._

 

Hajime wonders what the fight is about. School goes by without a hitch. He still can’t talk to Tooru properly, finds it hard to even grab his best friend by the shirt because he’ll only catch a whiff of his usual deodorant, and then suddenly smell the sickly sweet perfume that Nameless Girlfriend seems to wear in abundance will overpower any of Tooru's smells. Everything related to Tooru and that girl hurts him in a way he’d never imagined was possible.

It’s after school that the fight happens. He’s walking along the courtyard, on his way to practice, when Tooru calls out to him. He stops in his track, turns around to greet his friend when suddenly someone drops an entire bucket of dirty water on him. Hajime looks up, ready send someone spiralling into Hell, only to find Tooru's girlfriend looking down at him. 

There is not an ounce of guilt in her expression. She doesn’t make to apologise before she huffs and walks away from the windowsill. Hajime looks down at himself, taking in the drenched uniform. He'd have to dry that before tomorrow, because his spare was still being dry cleaned, and he couldn't ask his mother to pick it up earlier, considering her tight schedule.

Tooru, who witnesses the whole ordeal, calls after her. “Really? Get back here!”

Hajime begins to tell him that it doesn’t really matter, he has to change out of these clothes for practice anyways and can walk home in his P.E gear, but Tooru is _livid,_  cheeks red and lip pinched between his teeth as he storms past Hajime. 

“Oh no, Iwa-chan, she’s apologising whether it costs me my damn relationship.”

Hajime begins to argue that it would be useless to sacrifice his happiness for one apology, but Tooru's already stormed off, slamming the door behind him. When Hajime makes his way to the lockers, there are shouts in the hallway and people gathered around Tooru and his girlfriend. 

Hajime's never really felt guilty that he doesn’t remember her name. 

“It’s always Iwa-chan this, Iwa-chan that!” the girl shouts. “Maybe you should date him instead of me, since he's so much more important to you!”

Hajie feels his cheeks heat up at the jab, takes a step forward to intervene. Tooru looks outraged, eyes wide and mouth parted. He then leans in close to her, lips brushing her ear, and says something, that has the girl storming off, leaving a fuming Tooru in her wake.  He rubs his face, turns around before meeting eyes with Hajime. Hajime's first instinct is to run away. To not let Tooru know just how relieved he is that the relationship isn’t working out. To not let him show how corrupted by guilt and greed his insides are. 

Instead, he thinks back to the letter. He thinks back to the fact that, no matter what he might feel for his best friend, their friendship comes first. Tooru needs his support. 

That’s right. 

Tooru needs him. 

“Iwa-chan.” Tooru's voice is gentle, a soft breeze brushing against his cheeks. 

“Let’s get to practice,” Hajime says, patting his friend firmly on the back. 

It feels natural, somehow. 

 

* * *

 

“I think I’m going to break up with her,” Tooru says as they walk home. It’s the first time either of them have spoken directly to each other since practice. 

“What? How long have you two been dating for?”

“About a week? Maybe two?”

“That’s too short to end a relationship, Shittykawa.”

Tooru rubs the back of his neck with a small grimace. “I don’t like it when you tiptoe around me like that,” he says. Hajime doesn’t bother denying the fact that it’s happening. Tooru is observant, and he isn't stupid. Denying it would only be digging himself a grave.

“See," he says, instead, "it’s because you say stuff like that, that people start thinking I’m your boyfriend.”

Tooru sputters, and Hajime sees the faintest tinge of pink high on his cheeks. _It’s cute_ , he thinks before he can stop himself. Then Tooru's shit-eating grin is back and he grabs Hajime's sleeve, pulling him closer, until their sides are flush against one another's. 

“Would you date me, Iwa-chan?”

“No.”

“Rude! You’re passing up the opportunity to date the perfect partner!”

Iwaizumi doesn’t bother denying that either. 

 

* * *

  

Tooru does break up with her. 

He’s back to being his annoying, clingy self. If not a little bit more clingy. He’s lying down on Hajime's bed, tapping the tip of his pen against his bottom lip, and Hajime sits to his side, trying his best to concentrate, when Tooru brings up the topic that Hajime was doing his best to avoid thinking about. 

“Iwa-chan?”

Hajime grunts in response, more focused on his homework than his best friend’s fidgeting. 

“Do you have anyone you like?”

Hajime freezes, his pencil slipping between his fingers and clattering against his desk, the noise amplified twofold by how quiet his entire room has just gotten. 

“…I have someone I notice.”

“Notice?”

“…Notice.”

“What does that even mean?”

Hajime turns around to glare at his friend. “It means, dumbass, that they’re standing out to me. I don’t like them yet, or something. I just… I look at them more than I do other people, I guess.”

He’s lying. Hajime knows that Tooru knows he’s lying. He can tell by the way Tooru's eyebrows draw together and the way his bottom lip juts out in a pout. Even so, Tooru doesn’t push. He simply rolls over to stare at Hajime's ceiling. 

“I have someone I notice too,” he says. 

“You just broke up with your girlfriend and you’re telling me that now?”

Tooru giggles. “I guess it took me dating someone else to realise it.”

Hajime's heart throbs painfully.  _Lucky them,_ he thinks.

  

* * *

 

> _May 24th. After chemistry ended, we talked about the cultural festival with Hanamaki and Matsukawa. They shoot off fireworks every year. Oikawa said, “let’s go see them together."_
> 
> _Whatever you do, don’t lose that memory. It's one of the times with Oikawa that I cherish the most._

 

* * *

 

Their science teacher goes on quite the wild tangent that day, talking about the possibility of time travel through the creation of different realities. When confronted by the fact that changing the future would erase any and all need for time travel, the teacher chuckles. 

“You wouldn’t technically be changing the future, you’d simply be creating a parallel universe where the choices that you made are essentially different, and so would their consequences be.”

Hajime ponders if that’s how the letter reached him. 

“Create an alternate reality, huh,” he muses. He thinks about the him in the future, living with his shoulders weighed down by regrets. Even if he, this year, manages to change his own future, the one who sent this letter would continue living his pitiful life then?

Tooru would still be gone in that reality. 

Guilt tugs at his heart. 

  

* * *

 

“Let’s see the fireworks together, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime rolls his eyes, although his lips quirk up in a smile before he can fight it back. “Of course, idiot.” Tooru turns to their friends, inviting them over as well. Matsukawa accepts with a small smile, Hanamaki expresses that even if he wasn’t invited, he’d still tag along like the horrible third wheel he is.  Right after the consolidation of their plans, Hanamaki and Matsukawa excuse themselves, discussing Matsukawa’s plan for the next math test that he hadn’t bothered to study for. 

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru speaks up when they’re alone again. He’s so quiet, Hajime feels his stomach turn to stone. It's so unusual for Tooru to speak softly. “If you could, would you go to the past, or the future?”

“The future I guess,” Hajime answers with a shrug. “If I can’t change the past, then I’d like to know the future and change the present.”

Tooru's quiet for a moment. 

“I see. I’d go to the past.”

“How come?”

“I want to erase my regrets. Even if I couldn’t change the past, my heart would be lighter. That would be better than carrying your regrets for a lifetime, don’t you think, Iwa-chan?”

“Your… regrets?”

Tooru's smiles at him, eyes full of something Iwaizumi can’t quite read, and Hajime almost panics. He's not used to being unable to read Tooru. He knows every minute shift in his best friend's expression, has a repertoire buried deep inside his mind to recognise every single possible emotion he's feeling, and it feels too unnatural to not be able to place what that expression means for the both of them. 

The Tooru before him looks about as foreign as any classmate that Hajime passes by in the hallway. Tooru looks away from him, eyes sweeping over the rooftop, before he glances down at his watch. 

“Ah! We’re going to be late!” he exclaims, standing up and quickly packing his lunch. 

His words and that horrible facial expression haunt Hajime for the rest of the day. 

 

* * *

 

> _May 26th. I’m sure you know, but Oikawa works harder than anyone else when it comes to volleyball. Oikawa was limping when we walked to school. When I pointed it out, he simply shrugged me off, saying the pain would go before practice. We both know that’s bullshit. That night, he injured himself even more. I wasn’t there to stop him. That’s one of my biggest regrets. Stop him. You know what happens when you don't._

 

Tooru has already permanently injured his knee, the memory of that fateful night burned into the back of Hajime's brain like a brand. Was future-Hajime really saying that Tooru was going to worsen his condition?

Growling, Hajime grabs his bento and walks out the door. Tooru is indeed limping when they meet up to walk to school. Rather, it seems that way at first. 

“You’re limping.”

“What? No, I’m not,” Tooru replies, looking down at his knee. 

“Stop _bullshitting_ me, Trashkawa.”

“I”m not!” Tooru's got his hands raised in defence as he retorts. “I’m really not limping.”

Iwaizumi raises a brow and motions for Oikawa to walk in front of him with a flick of his wrist. The other boy takes a few steps. He’s not limping. Hajime feels a small flicker of hope light up in his chest. Has he already started changing the future? Has he already started saving Tooru?

“Oh, you’re right,” he says. “My bad, I thought you were overworking yourself. Again.”

“Are you my mom, Iwa-chan?”

“Say that again and I’m going to _make_ you limp.”

 

* * *

 

Tooru calls him earlier than usual that night.

“Iwa-chan?” 

His voice is strained. Hajime instantly recognises that tone, the guilt weighing Tooru's voice down a few octaves, and he’s out of his chair before he can even realise what he’s doing. He puts on his coat as he speaks. 

“Where are you?”

“Th-The gym.” He hears a muffled sob on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan. I’m sorry, I’m sorr-“

“Shut up.”

He runs the whole way to school and finds Tooru crumpled on the floor next to his bag. The other boy is still crying, snot, sweat and tears running down his face in streaks. His knee’s swollen, red, and bent at that weird, yet unfortunately familiar angle. 

“I landed wrong,” Tooru says. Hajime can’t find it in himself to be mad. He slings his friend’s bag over his shoulder, before picking up Tooru. Despite the fact that Tooru’s larger than him, it surprises Hajime once more just how easy he is to carry. He makes a mental note to ask about his diet, about whether he's eating properly.

“I should have been honest about the limping. I’m sorry,” Tooru mumbles into the junction between Hajime's neck and his shoulder, wetting the skin there with tears and snot. “I’m so sorry, Iwa-chan. I’m-“

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

  

Oikawa’s banned from practice until the summer holidays end. 

 

> _Oikawa turned volleyball into his emotional outlet. It’s how he let out his anger. The tears would mix in with the sweat and no one would notice that he was crying during practice. Well, no one but me, anyways. I’m sure you’ve noticed it too._

He has. 

 

> _When he got banned from practice, he became aggressive, pissy and even more childish than usual. I don’t know if you managed to get him to stop overworking himself, but if not, don’t let him take his anger out on Matsukawa and Hanamaki again. That didn’t end well for us._

 

* * *

  

It’s not Hanamaki or Matsukawa who brave the hurricane that is a pissy Tooru. 

It’s Hajime, and it happens completely randomly. So far, Tooru had managed to keep himself mostly under check. He’d snapped a few times, but neither Iwaizumi nor their other two friends could hold it against him. Not with what he is going through.

The worst happens when Tooru drops a glass of water. 

At first, Tooru's mood is inconspicuous. He is unnaturally quiet that day, but Hajime shrugs it off as another nervous trip. Exams are coming up, after all, and Tooru is nothing if not a perfectionist when it comes to his grades. An hour into their study session, Tooru stands up, says he’s going to get some water, and walks into the kitchen. Hajime hears the clink of the glass, hears the tap water running, and afterward, a crash, and a swear. 

He’s out of his seat in a flash, finds Tooru with broken glass at his feet. 

They meet eyes, and Tooru  _bursts_ into tears. “I’m so useless, Iwa-chan,” he says, over and over, as if it was some kind of mantra. Even as Hajime bends down to pick up the broken shards of glass. 

_How ironic,_ the bitter part of his mind supplies. _You’re there picking up the shattered pieces anyways._

“I can’t even fill up a glass of water without screwing everything up,” Tooru continues, making his way out of the kitchen once it's safe enough. He slumps down on the couch, buries his face in his hands.

“You don’t believe that,” Hajime says. Because Tooru doesn’t. He _can’t_. Tooru is optimistic, ambitious. He believes in himself, or so he should, because Hajime can only see Tooru as something bright, as something that fills him with hope and determination. Once he’s done picking up the glass, and throwing it away, he sits down next to Tooru, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. They’re not looking at each other, but he can tell that Tooru's calming down, slowly.

At least, he believes so.

“I should just die.”

It’s whispered, but in the quiet of the room, Hajime feels like Tooru’s just screamed at the top of his lungs. It rings in Hajime's head, rattles down his spine and shakes him to his very core. His head whips around, glare intensifying and anger bubbling in his chest as he reaches over to grab Tooru by the front of his shirt. 

“You take that back, right now,” he growls, tugging the boy closer. Tooru's eyes widen, his mouth falls slack around a small _Iwa-chan_.

“You take that _back,_ ” he knows he’s yelling. He can’t help it. 

A door opens behind them. “Hajime? Tooru?” his mother steps out of her office, worried, but all Hajime can do is keep glaring at Tooru, who’s tears have started spilling down his cheeks again. 

Hajime feels like crying too. He slumps forward, resting his forehead against Tooru's trembling shoulder. “Don’t you dare say that,” he whispers. “I need you, you dumbass.”

Tooru's arms wrap around him in a tight embrace. They sit like that for a long time, crying it all out, until the sun has set and the stars shine bright above their heads.

  

* * *

  

At the culture festival, Tooru isn’t allowed to be on his feet for more than 20 minutes at a time, because of his injury. He sits at the stands, Hanamaki and Matsukawa frequently coming over just to poke fun at him.  Standing or not, Tooru's presence makes his class’s activity the most popular out of all the first year’s. His fans flood the area, buy all the food available and fawn over his injured knee. He welcomes the love with open arms, and accepts any and all praise, earning himself more than one slap from Hajime. 

When the time to watch the fireworks finally rolls up, Matsukawa gives Tooru a piggyback ride up to the roof, where they sit. Just the four of them. Close friends escaping reality, for a small amount of time. 

Tooru is more interested in watching the stars than the fireworks. He raises his hand high above his head, pointing out constellations with strange names when they’re not obscured by the blinding flashes of the fireworks. He and Hanamaki delve deep into theories about which stars are actually UFO’s. 

Hajime realises, then, that his future self wasn’t lying. 

He really is in love with his best friend. 

He wonders how long he’s been feeling this way.

 

* * *

 

“‘ _Matsumoto Bonbon_ ’ is happening soon, isn’t it?” Matsukawa asks, nudging Hanamaki’s side with his elbow. Hanamaki chuckles.

“You want to wear _yukatas_ and go to the shrine together?” he quips. “Gay.”

Matsukawa laughs, weakly hitting his friend on the shoulder. Hanamaki leans in toward Matsukawa, lips perked in a kissy face, earning a groan from the latter. When Hajime looks away from their display (absolutely _not_ out of jealousy), he meets Tooru's eyes. They’re shining bright with excitement. 

“Iwa-chan,” he says around a mouthful of cheese burger, “let’s go together!”

Hajime nods, trying to keep the fluttering of his heart at a minimum. 

“You guys too,” Tooru continues, pointing a finger at Hanamaki and Matsukawa. “All of us should go. Together.”

They nod, too.

 

* * *

  

> _August 4th. When you attend the event, ask him about his mother. I don’t care how, or why, but I have the feeling that he really wanted to talk to me that day, and I didn’t make it easy for him. I think… I think his regret is that he couldn’t help his mom. Maybe, if he gets that off his chest, you’ll have taken the first step to preventing his accident._

 

Hajime frowns down at the letter. “Accident? What accident?”

He flips to the last page of the letter. To the last entry.

  

> _March 15th. Up until that moment, it was just a normal day. That night, I was writing in my diary like usual when I got a call from my mother saying ‘Tooru’s been in an accident.’_

 

A lump forms in his throat as he reads, and he unconsciously clamps a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from whining. 

   

> _He didn’t make it. The doctors couldn't save him in time. The accident happened around 8, at the intersection close to his house. While Tooru was riding his bike, he came out in front of an oncoming truck. We couldn’t do anything. Not save him from the accident, nor help him beforehand. Later, his caretaker confessed that they found a suicide note on his desk._
> 
> _I want Tooru to choose life._
> 
> _I want to lighten the burdens he was carrying._
> 
> _I want to carry his troubles with him._
> 
> _I want him to never be alone._
> 
> _I want you to help him._

 

Hajime barely sleeps that night, visions of a broken, dead Tooru forcing him awake more than once with heaving breaths and sweat-stained sheets. 

  

* * *

 

 At the festival, Tooru greets him in a yukata. 

_God, he’s beautiful_ , is the first thing his mind can come up with. Hajime's heart wedges itself in his throat. He’s not wearing anything fancy, just shorts, and a hoodie, and sneakers. He’s got nothing on how ethereal Tooru looks. He feels like he’s preventing Tooru from shining like the star he is, just by standing next to him.

Tooru's fanclub is there too, asking to take photos with him, to accept the food they make for him. He accepts everything they offer with a grace and gentleness Hajime only sees when Tooru is interacting with girls. He wonders if Tooru would ever treat him that way too. 

“Oikawa,” he says, after 20 minutes of waiting by the flock of girls. “Let’s go meet up with Matsukawa and Hanamaki, at the shrine.”

Tooru's eyes shine as he excuses himself. The walk up the stairs almost feels normal. Tooru hums next to him, matching Hajime's quick pace with ease. They wish, side by side, hands clasped together and eyes squeezed shut. When Hajime finishes his prayer, he glances at Tooru. 

“What did you wish for, Iwa-chan?” Tooru asks. 

Hajime doesn’t bother lying. “I wished for you to be happy,” he says with a shrug. Tooru's eyes widen for a moment, before he laughs and slaps Hajime on the shoulder. 

“You’re not supposed to tell people your wishes, or they don’t come true, muscle-for-brains!”

Hajime can tell he’s blushing to his neck, now. “Shut up,” he argues. “It’ll happen. I’ll make sure it happens.”

Tooru falls silent. 

They’re walking down the steps, Hanamaki and Matsukawa nowhere in sight, when Iwaizumi speaks up again. 

“What did you wish for?”

Tooru looks down at the floor, at the way his _geta_ clack against the stone stairs. “I didn’t really wish. I just wanted to tell my mother something. Since it’s God, he can get the message to her, I think.”

“What did you tell her?” Hajime asks. Tooru gives him a sidelong glance before skipping ahead of him. 

“It’s a secret,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Enough about that, I’m hungry, Iwa-chan. I want _takoyaki_!”

They fight over who pays for their order, and Iwaizumi ends up kicking Oikawa in the shins until the boy runs away, holding up the entire line for way longer than they have to. Hajime doesn’t mind that much, though, even as he has to listen to an elderly lady complain about his generation. He just wants to see Tooru smile, even for a little bit.

They make their way out of the crowded parts of the park to a patch of grass, where they both sit down. 

“Man, my fanclub, they’re wonderful but,” Tooru yawns, raising his free hand to his mouth, “they’re also really exhausting to be around.”

“You don’t like any of them?” Hajime asks. 

“What do you mean?”

He can feel himself blush. “You mentioned a person that you noticed. I was wondering if she was one of your fans.”

Tooru chuckles. 

“No. And it’s not the person I ‘notice’, anymore. It’s the person I _like_ ,” Tooru says, putting emphasis on the last word. “What about you, Iwa-chan?”

“Same.”

Tooru hums, contemplative. “I wonder why you won’t tell me who it is.”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Rude! I would believe anything from you, Iwa-chan!” The teasing tone to his voice is back. 

“Aliens don’t exist.”

“Alright,” Tooru raises a hand and points a finger at Hajime, brows furrowed, “that’s pushing it.”

Then, they’re laughing, and Tooru is leaning over to brush their shoulders together, sending sparks coursing along Hajime’s skin. Once they manage to calm down, they take a moment to eat their _takoyaki_ in silence. Hajime finds this might be an appropriate moment to take up on the letter’s advice. 

“You’ve been happier, lately,” he says. Tooru grins.

“I’ve been alright,” he admits. 

“Alright.”

There’s another moment of silence. Hajime  _wants_ him to talk, but he’s scared to push. He’s scared to anger his friend - to ruin a perfectly happy night. The idea of the ‘accident’ haunts him, though. It doesn't leave his mind for long enough to let him feel at peace. So he takes a leap. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right? About your mother, I mean. About how you feel.”

Tooru's eyes glint with something that's unfortunately becoming familiar under the lights. 

“Iwa-chan, is this your caveman way of telling me you care?” he quips. 

Hajime slaps him on the back of the head, but keeps his hand there to ruffle the soft strands at the nape of Tooru's neck. 

“I always care, dumbass. I just don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“I-“

“Like not helping your mother.” Tooru's eyes widen. His bottom lip trembles and he shakily reaches over to latch onto Hajime’s sleeve. 

“I thought you’d get mad at me if I said that.”

“I won’t. Ever.”

“You got mad at me when I said I should just-“

“That’s different! That’s not a regret, that's a really dangerous wish.”

Tooru eyes him warily, but his hold on Hajime's sweater tightens.

“I have lots of regrets,” he finally says. “But the biggest is that one day we went to get food with Makki and Mattsun.”

“The day your mom passed away?”

Tooru nods. “Yeah. On that day, I was really mad at her, because she’d thrown away my volleyball equipment the week before. That's something I could forgive, because I'd just go and buy more. But then that morning she told me she didn’t want me to join the volleyball club and I,” Tooru takes a deep breath. “I was _infuriated_ , Iwa-chan. Volleyball’s always been my biggest passion, and I didn’t want to come home to someone who was going to prevent that, despite the fact that I knew she was feeling fragile. I knew she needed me. The worst part is, you tried to tell me to go home, and I forced you to come along instead. All of that to get back at her. All of that to never see her again.”

Hajime stays quiet. 

“I sent her a text saying I couldn’t come straight home, that I’d come back later. I thought I could just apologise for being petty then, when I’d spent a nice afternoon in your company and calmed down. I didn’t think she’d,” Tooru swallows thickly, “kill herself that easily. I did something absolutely awful, Iwa-chan. So I asked God to tell her I’m sorry.”

Hajime sees the glint of the drops before he realises that Tooru's crying. He reaches up to wipe at his friend’s cheeks. 

“Your mom understands,” Hajime says, voice soft. Tooru look at his face, before he raises his own hands in order to gently wipe the sleeve of his yukata against Iwaizumi’s cheek. When he pulls it back, there’s a wet spot on the fabric.

Hajime hadn't even realised that he’d been crying along with Tooru. 

“Thank you, Hajime.”

Tooru's response is whispered, but Hajime feels a shiver at the way his first name sounds so _right_ on his best friend’s tongue.

“Ah, Oikawa, Iwaizumi,” he hears Hanamaki’s telltale voice and reaches up to wipe the remaining tears from his cheeks before they can see him. Tooru goes straight to greet them, although it doesn’t take long before he excuses himself in order to go home early, feigning exhaustion after having to deal with a fanclub as large as his.

"Woes of being popular, Makki!" he says as he takes a few steps back. "Not that you'd ever know!"

"Asshole!" Hanamaki calls after him, but his grin contradicts the harsh word.

Hajime watches Tooru's retreating form disappear through the crowds. When he turns around, Matsukawa and Hanamaki are watching him with that same knowing gaze as the day Tooru accepted the confession. 

Unsettled, Hajime excuses himself too. When he gets home, he receives one last text. 

From: Shittykawa (22:31)

_Thanks for listening to me. Telling you made me feel better._

 

* * *

 

The next day, he stays in bed until 12, skipping volleyball practice for the first time in his life. 

His mother knocks on his door, opens it hesitantly before poking her head in. “You’ve got a friend over?” she asks. “Hanamaki-kun?”

Hajime's confused, since he doesn’t remember inviting anyone, but goes to the door anyways. He ignores the fact that he’s still in his dinosaur pyjamas and probably looks like death warmed over. 

“Hey buddy,” Hanamaki greets him, giving him the courtesy of also ignoring the childish pyjamas and horrible facial expression. “I was just wondering if Oikawa’s okay? He seemed kind of down yesterday, and he wasn’t at practice this morning. Neither were you, though. Matsukawa bet you two were together but I said that was rushing it a bit.”

Fighting away his blush, Hajime tugs Hanamaki inside with more force than necessary. “Stop talking so openly about this stuff when you’re outside! What if the neighbours hear?” he hisses, ignoring his friend’s laughter. 

He makes Hanamaki some honey tea, what his mother uses to calm her nerves, and they sit together in silence before his guests speaks up. 

“Look, I’m sorry to bring this to you now, and I’m even more sorry for holding this in for so long, but I need to talk to you about something.”

Hajime runs scenarios through his head, each one getting progressively worse as he continues thinking. _I’m actually not dating Matsukawa. I have a crush on Oikawa and I need dating advice. I cheated on Matsukawa with Oikawa. I’ve killed someone and I need an alibi and Mattsun’s got nothing for me._

What he doesn’t expect is for Hanamaki to reach into his bag and pull out a letter. It looks like his. White, addressed to a “ _Hanamaki Takahiro_ ,” with no return address. 

His fingers go numb as he pulls out the stack of papers enclosed in the envelope. They’re essentially the same as what he received, a warning about Tooru's suicide and what to do to prevent it, albeit written in Hanamaki’s neat handwriting.

“You got one too,” is all he manages to choke out. 

“Yup.”

Hanamaki sips at his tea. He inhales deeply before he delves into the topic. 

“At first, I didn’t believe it. I mean, I didn’t even know who the hell _Oikawa_ was. And even though the letter warned me about him getting all rowdy on Issei in the changing rooms, I completely forgot about it the moment it happened. Let’s be real, someone grabs your boy-“ Hanamaki interrupts himself by choking on his own spit, “ _best_ friend by the shirt, and starts screaming, you’re not going to think about this letter that can tell the future, yeah?”

Hajime nods. He hadn't believed it at first either.

“It also warned me about not asking him out to eat, though I didn’t believe an ounce of it. It hit me hard when Oikawa missed a week of school. Then it warned me about his girlfriend too, and how I should have stopped him from going out with her, apparently. Though, what it said was ‘the only thing you have to do is make sure Iwaizumi is honest with his feelings’.”

They both stare blankly at the floor for a long time. 

“Either way,” Hanamaki suddenly says, slapping his thighs. “I wanted to tell you all this because the next few entries are… worrying.”

Hajime frowns. “I haven’t read those. I read them as I go.”

Hanamaki shrugs. “I read them all at once. I wanted a general idea of what the hell was happening.”

He reaches over to the coffee table, where all 5 pages of his letter are spread out. He taps one of the pages, pulls it out, before clearing his throat and handing it to Hajime.

 

> _September 5th._
> 
> _We learned from his caretaker, after he died, that he attempted to commit suicide on September 5th. He tried to hang himself with a towel in his bedroom, and was hospitalised for a few days. He didn’t tell any of us the reason why. I assumed it was because of his knee, or maybe one of Iwaizumi's insults had made the glass overflow, who knew._
> 
> _Turns out, though, the day before he attempted to kill himself, he met an old friend of his from that school he went to. Kitagawa Daichii, I think it was. Either way, he told said friend about his mother’s suicide, and that he wanted to die too. Said friend laughed at him and didn’t take him seriously. If you can, get Iwaizumi to talk to Tooru about his feelings. Or do it yourself, though there’s little chance that he’ll even want to confide in you._

 

“What the fuck,” Hajime whispers. Hanamaki nods.

“The date is close. Too close for comfort, honestly.”

“Does Matsukawa know about this? This whole… letter thing.”

Hanamaki nods again. “We all got a letter. Issei’s is just… a little personal, I guess. Something to do with feelings that he hasn’t had time to come to terms with, yet. Anyhow, he knows about this, just like we do, and is working to keep Oikawa safe, just like we are.”

Hajime forces out a laugh.

“This is such a mess,” he says. “I don’t want to have to rely on a stupid letter to make my best friend happy.”

Hanamaki claps him on the back. 

“I don’t think you’re relying on a letter at all. Sure, it helps, but you make him happy 24/7, no matter what you do. I’m pretty sure the fact that you exist brings joy to him. Knowing what specific events could trigger something irreparable,” Hanamaki pauses, “it just helps, okay?”

Hajime nods. 

“Anyways,” Hanamaki says as he stands up. “I’ve got a best friend to take care of, this week, and we’ve all got someone to take care of before September rolls around.”

 

* * *

 

On the Monday they return to school, Hajime is first on cleaning duty. He sweeps the classroom before practice begins, as Tooru waits for him. The taller boy is seated on one of the desks, staring out the open window. The breeze coming from it is soft, and the smell of freshly cut grass permeates the air. It's relaxing, Hajime thinks. He could get used to this, Tooru humming soft songs under his breath, sunlight gently shining down on them, the sound of birds chirping in the air.

And just as quickly as his mind conjured the fantasy, it's gone, because, Oikawa leans forward, toward the window, and Hajime drops the broom out of fear. Tooru jerks back at the sound, but doesn’t really have the time to say anything to lighten the atmosphere before Hajime's grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up so they’re face to face. 

“What the hell were you doing just there?” he asks, gesturing to the window with his free hand. 

Tooru laughs, breezy. “Well, I was thinking maybe I could turn into superman and fly away.”

“Trashykawa, you can’t fly. And I thought being superman was _my_ job.”

“You take everything so seriously, Iwa-chan,” Tooru breathes. They’re close. So close. If Tooru leaned up, or Hajime ducked down, just another inch, their lips would most likely meet. Instead, Tooru’s hands inch up to grasp at the front of Hajime's uniform. His eyes never meet Hajime’s, staying locked on the other boy’s collarbones. “If I was superman, I would have been able to save my mother.”

Hajime feels like the breath has been punched from his lungs with each of Tooru's words. 

“Just kidding,” Tooru finally says, followed by a hollow laugh. He tips his head to the side, and Hajime's eyes are immediately drawn to the long column of his throat. He’s pale. Paler than usual. Tooru doesn’t give him the time to dwell on it, though. 

“I'm meeting someone from KitaIchii on Saturday.”

Hajime's blood runs cold. He’s scared, so scared that he panics and blurts out the first thing on his mind. ““Don’t go,” he says. "We’re spending the weekend together.”

Tooru's eyes widen. “What? Iwa-chan, I already have plans-“

“Why don’t you talk to me?”

Hajime knows it isn’t the best place to be talking about this, especially with the chance that anyone could walk in on the both of them and see them raw, open, vulnerable, but he presses on anyways. “You used to talk to me all the time, about how you felt. You’ve stopped, and I don’t know why. I can’t understand why. I’m your best friend, aren’t I? I don’t want you to go off and talk to someone you barely know about your feelings when I’m _right_ here.”

“There’s no prob-“

“ _Bullshit_!” Hajime knows he’s letting his anger seep into his words, and that he sounds harsher than he should, considering how fragile his friend looks. But he’s angry, because this is the second time Tooru has gone and said nothing was wrong to _his face._ The second time that Tooru acted like there was nothing going on, when he _knows_ that Hajime is the best at reading him. Hajime takes a step forward, forces himself closer, between Tooru's legs. 

“Iwa-ch-“

“You’ve thought about killing yourself, haven’t you?”

The sentence rings in the empty classroom. Tooru's eyes are wide. He opens his mouth once, closes it, and opens it again. Then, he looks down at the floor. Hajime can see the glint of his tears falling. 

“Yes,” Tooru confesses, voice so small yet strong enough to shatter Hajime's heart. “Yes, I have. Every single day.”

Hajime lets go of Tooru's shirt in favour of cupping his cheeks, lifting his friend's head gently.

“Why?” he asks. His own voice is silken, soft, such a harsh contrast to the usual gruff grumbles.

“Because it’s my fault,” Tooru whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks and snot dribbling out of his nose. He sniffles. “She died because of _me._ I knew she needed my support and I ended up ditching her, thinking she was a _pain_. I’m a horrible son and I should just d-“

“Everyone thinks like that.”

Tooru looks up, finally meeting Hajime's gaze with his glassy one. 

“I think like that about everything. Mostly about you, though.” Tooru opens his mouth to argue, but Hajime keeps talking. “About how you always call me before we go to bed because you need to talk about all the goddamn stuff that goes through your mind on a daily basis, when I’d rather sleep. About how I have to carry your stuff to and from school. About how you hurt yourself all the time even though I warn you, and then I’m left picking up the pieces. Does that make me guilty of anything? Any less of a best friend?”

“Of course not,” Tooru argues, his breath hitching, “it’s different when you're still ali-“

“If you killed yourself, would it be that different?”

Tooru stares at him, eyes wide. 

“I’d be a shitty best friend then, wouldn’t I? Because I thought doing some things for you was a pain? I feel guilty afterward too, you know. Am I a horrible best friend?”

“No, no you’re not, stop, please-“

“I love you.”

Tooru drops his gaze back down to the floor, breath hitching and frame shaking. 

“I love you,” Hajime repeats, “so please, _please_ don’t leave me.”

Hajime wraps his arms around Tooru’s shoulders, letting his own tears escape. He buries his head in the junction between Oikawa’s shoulder and his neck, whispering a litany of ‘pleases’ and ‘I love you’ against the other boy’s smooth skin. After a while, when the both of them have calmed down, their muscles relaxed and chests no longer heaving with sobs, Tooru slowly rubs his eyes with Hajime's blazer.

“Thank you.” Tooru's response is barely whispered into the fabric. 

They break apart after that, wiping frantically at their cheeks. Hajime's burning up with embarrassment. This isn’t exactly how he wanted to confess. He pictured something more romantic, less raw, and definitely less snot and tears. Anxiety grips his heart at the prospect of rejection. After all, Tooru had mentioned someone he liked, and there was only a small chance that Hajime was said person.

He begins correcting himself, tries to come up with an excuse before Tooru pushes him away. Instead, Tooru grabs his hand and brings it up to his lips. Hajime watches, entranced, as the other boy kisses each of his knuckles, before looking up at him with red rimmed eyes.

“Hajime,” Tooru whispers, and it sends a spark of electricity racing through Hajime's body. Tooru looks like he wants to say something else, but instead breaks out into giggles, smothering them against Hajime's hand. 

Hajime can feel part of himself die and come back to life, anew, stronger, sturdier. Because Tooru, the Tooru whom he can read so easily, the Tooru he’s grown to love, isn’t rejecting him.

“Don’t you dare say anything,” he growls when Tooru laughs again.

“I’m not,” the other boy says. 

 

* * *

 

Matsukawa glances at Hanamaki as they walk away from classroom 1-5, where their two close friends just confessed a whole lot of feelings to each other. 

“You’re crying,” he states. Hanamaki glares at him. 

“I’m not crying. Shut up.”

“It’s okay to cry, Hiro…”

Hanamaki looks away from his boyfriend, reaching into his pocket to grab a tissue. He mentally thanks any available deity for his forward thinking. “I’m surprised _you_ didn’t cry,” he retorts, “considering Oikawa just basically confessed a whole load of suicidal thoughts.”

“Flushed it out of my system yesterday,” Mattsun says with a small chuckle. “Watched the Lion King three times in a row. Completely forgot to do my homework too.”

Hanamaki rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous."

They take another few steps before Issei speaks up again.

“Hiro.” This time, his voice has that edge to it. The edge that makes Hanamaki anxious, because it’s not often that his boyfriend gets 100% serious. “I know how much this situation is affecting you, okay? I’m sorry I’m not sharing what’s written in my letter. Just know that I’m working as hard as you are to keep Oikawa alive.”

Takahiro sighs.

“I know, Issei. I know. I’m just,” he pauses, reaches up to run a hand through his hair. “That was intense, you know? I hate it, because no matter how much of the future we’ve already changed, Oikawa’s still wanted to die for the past few weeks. So what’s there to tell us that we’re succeeding? That we’re _actually_ helping him? For all we know, he could step out in front of that truck three months early instead because of something someone says offhandedly.”

When he looks up, Matsukawa's eyes are teary and Hanamaki immediately regrets his words.

“I know,” his boyfriend answers quietly before he can apologise. “I know, okay? But he won’t. He’s got us. And most of all, he’s got Iwaizumi being honest with his feelings. That was the most important thing on your letter, right? We’re doing fine.”

Hanamaki growls, cheeks red and eyes watering again. “I just want them to be happy.”

 

* * *

  

“Iwa-chan, to think I’m the person you like!” Tooru exclaims, swinging their intertwined hands as they walk. 

“Shut. Up. It was obvious.”

Oikawa smiles. Hajime knows it’s not a real smile. He knows it’s the watery type of smile, that happens when Tooru’s not feeling his best but is still trying.

He wants to see his real smile again. God, does he miss it.

His fingers tighten around the other boy’s.

"It's okay though, Iwa-chan. Because you're the person that I like, too."

 

* * *

 

Hanamaki’s forgotten his kneepads. Again. If he has to be honest with himself, this is something that often happens. It is his problem. He shouldn’t be complaining under his breath as he makes his way through the school gates.

That doesn't stop him from muttering to himself as he walks to the gym, though.

When he walks into the large room, the first thing he sees is an exhausted Oikawa.

The boy in question is doubled over, sweat dripping from his face and onto the ground. There are volleyballs scattered around the gym, but the majority are centred around the net. Oikawa is breathing so heavily it echoes around the vast room. He doesn’t notice Hanamaki’s presence.

“You should go home, Oikawa,” he says gently. “The school grounds are closing off soon.”

“Already?” Oikawa queries through his gasping, not even turning his head to look at him. Hanamaki nods, walking to the corner of the gym where he’d placed his kneepads. When he makes his way out of the gym, bidding his classmate a small goodbye, Oikawa's lining up another jump serve.

 

* * *

 

“I cancelled my plans with my friend,” Tooru says on Friday, during their lunch break. Hajime can feel the tension leaving his shoulders with the sigh he heaves in relief. The future is changing at last. He hasn’t read the letter in a while, but he knows he’s doing something right, because the events in the letter and those in real life have slowly stopped perfectly aligning. Tooru smiles. They're getting better, Hajime thinks. Tooru's smiles aren't genuine and bright, but they’re not fake either. 

He _has_ to be doing something right.

“I’m thinking,” Tooru says, twirling his juice box between slender fingers, “we should meet up tomorrow morning for a jog, then make our way over to Ushiwaka's house and, I read up online for this prank that involved toilet pap-“

He yelps when Hajime interrupts him with a slap to the thigh. Tooru's about to complain about Hajime's brutish demeanour when Matsukawa comes barrelling into the room, quickly followed by a screaming Hanamaki.

Hajime lets his attention drift from Tooru just in time to see Hanamaki slip a bunch of ice cubes down the back of Matsukawa’s uniform.

If Tooru notices the way Hajime's hand lingers on his thigh, he doesn’t make it known.

  

* * *

 

Tooru collapses during volleyball practice, that day.

Hajime remembers it all too clearly. The way Tooru lined up that perfect jump serve. The way his eyes had glinted, a show that he was taking this as seriously as any official match. The way he’d thrown the ball up into the air, taken two steps, only for his legs to give up beneath him. He crumpled to the floor in a graceless heap, accompanied by a small shout of surprise leaving Hajime's lips.

Hajime sighs, resting his chin in his hand as he waits for Tooru to come back to the conscious world. When Tooru does wake up, an hour and a half later, he’s confused and sheepish.

“I must’ve overworked myself again,” he says with a small laugh. He looks fragile. It stands out to Hajime, once again, just how skinny he is. Hajime wants to punch him. On the mouth. With his mouth.

“Are you eating right these days?” Matsukawa asks.

Tooru shows him two thumbs up and a dazzling grin, although Hajime doesn't buy it one bit.

 

* * *

  

Hanamaki asks to see him after school. He’s waiting with Matsukawa by a vending machine when Hajime manages to get out of Tooru's clingy grasp. 

“Was that on your letter?” Hanamaki asks. He’s got his papers with him, the creases on them obvious from their frantic checking. Hajime shakes his head.

“Not that I know of. I haven’t read it in a while, so I might be wrong. But I don’t think it was.”

“I can’t tell if this is a good or a bad change,” Hanamaki muses. “But I think we’re seeing the birth of a new future.”

Matsukawa hums.

“He’s been overworking himself again,” Hanamaki says. “I’m saying ‘again’ because I’m assuming this is a regular occurrence.”

Hajime nods.

“It’s kind of scary, don’t you think?”

Matsukawa and Hajime both look at Hanamaki. The latter laughs, but without mirth. “I was giving you all this bravado about not needing the letter to make him happy, and yet… here we are, freaking out about the fact that the future is _actually_ different.”

They can’t help but agree.

 

* * *

 

Hajime's fiddling with the stack of papers that his future self had sent him when Hanamaki calls. 

“I’m gonna stop relying on this thing,” Hanamaki states. “We know, vaguely, what’s going to happen, and I’m getting sick of this whole future-controlling-the-past thing.”

Hajime laughs softly. “You don’t have to justify it, Makki,” he says. “I want to stop using it too.”

  

* * *

 

When the other end of the line beeps rhythmically, Hanamaki drops his phone and lets himself lean back against the wall of his room. 

Hajime didn’t exactly understand why Hanamaki wants to stop using the letters. It’s not because the future was changing. It’s because the future had begun changing way before he was even aware of it.

 

> _The first thing you should know, past Issei, is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I was weak. I’m sorry that I cried when I first met Oikawa and made him regret that for the short rest of his life. I’m sorry that I wasn’t good emotional support to him. I’m sorry that the you, who is now me, is living with a truckload of regrets. I’m sorry that, every day, when I wake up, I know I made the mistake of keeping my feelings hidden from someone who clearly wanted to return them._
> 
> _Now, I want to tell you something that you can decide to keep to yourself, if you want to. Even though I highlighted the things I want you to switch up, I only really have one regret, when it comes to Oikawa’s future. It’s my cowardice. A lot of what happened could have been avoided if I’d done one simple thing._
> 
> _You see, each time Oikawa and Iwaizumi fought, that year, it brought them further and further apart. Oikawa started pushed Iwaizumi away a lot._

 

The paper is tear stained where Hanamaki thumbs it idly. 

 

> _And Iwaizumi brought Takahiro closer._
> 
> _Maybe, maybe if I’d been strong, maybe if I’d let Takahiro return my feelings without pushing him away, maybe if I’d let him be the friend, and more, that he wanted to be, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe if I hadn’t told him that his feelings were fake because I felt bad for Iwaizumi, Oikawa would still be alive._
> 
> _So I want you to do something for me, past Issei. As a favour to the worthless self of yours living in the future._
> 
> _I want you to confess to Takahiro when you receive this letter._
> 
> _Quick and clean._
> 
> _You know he won’t reject you._

 

Hanamaki wants to throw up. His own letter had mentioned something about making a mistake when it came to Matsukawa, but he never imagined it would involve breaking his heart.

Or dating Hajime.

He can’t imagine it, now. Having grown so close to his best friend, to his boyfriend, he can’t imagine not seeing the way Issei always looks at him.

Takahiro’s phone rings. Matsukawa’s name lights up the screen. They’d both agreed to finally take a look at what was on Issei’s letter, but he was in no way ready to face his boyfriend with this newfound information.

The last paragraph. Those last few sentences.

Hanamaki wonders when Matsukawa received his letter.

 

* * *

  

It’s the day of the sports festival. Hanamaki knows Issei’s anxious. They haven’t said a word to each other since Takahiro’d picked him up. They walk to school in silence, take off their shoes in silence, and head to their respective classrooms in silence. 

Before they do separate, Matsukawa grabs his wrist.

“Just so you know, I confessed to you before getting the letter.”

It’s all he says, and it’s whispered, because not everyone in the school wants to hear about their feelings for each other, but Hanamaki smiles anyways. That’s all he needed to know.

  

* * *

 

Hajime gets swarmed by girls the moment he takes off his shirt for the boys’ _bo-taoshi_ event. Hanamaki, part of the large crowd of shirtless boys that goes unnoticed, nudges Tooru, who’s been nervously glancing at where his best friend is currently standing.

“Aren’t you worried about that?” he says, pointing to the man in question. “About him getting together with someone else before you two make it official?”

Tooru chuckles. “I don't know, Iwa-chan might have to deal with a lot of hate from my fanclub. And even if he didn't, I still wouldn’t go out with him.”

Hanamaki snorts. He’d noticed how girls didn’t seem to be able to keep their hands to themselves when it came to Tooru. He briefly wonders how the boy even manages to survive their daily assaults.

“Why not date him?” Hanamaki finally asks, stretching his arms over his head. “You two are already a couple. People’ve pointed that out before.”

Tooru looks up to the sky, his smile gentle.

“Because I don’t know how long I’ll be here for.”

Hanamaki’s ready to point out just how terrifying that statement is when Tooru continues, a weak attempt at a cover up for darker intentions. “My dad’s been moving in and out of the country for work. He might bring me along sometime. If we started dating and I suddenly had to leave, it’d be hard on Iwa-chan. I don’t ever want to hurt him.”

Hanamaki turns to get a good look at Tooru.

“You’re telling _that’s_ the reason you two aren’t going out?” He shakes his head, places a hand on Tooru’s shoulder. It’s bony. “Oikawa, tell me how you really feel. What if Iwaizumi got close to someone other than you? What if he started dating _me_?”

Matsukawa’s letter haunts him. It _had_ happened, in a different reality. Tooru laughs, but it’s hollow.

“You wouldn’t date him,” he says, “because you’re head over heels for Mattsun. But I’ll humour you,” Tooru continues. “I’d think it’s a good idea if you went off and dated him.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’d give him some stable ground, next to a hurricane like me.”

   

* * *

 

“Trashkawa, I swear-“

“I’m fine, Iwa-chan. I told you, I’m fine. Fine! F-I-N-E, _fiiiiine_!”

“You stupid fuck- I am going to give you a black eye to go with that swollen knee if you don’t come over here.”

Feeling petty, Tooru relents by dropping the bag he was carrying to the teachers and sitting down on the floor, right where he was standing. Hajime sighs, kneeling down next to him with an ice pack at the ready.

“Are you having fun?” he asks. Tooru gives a non-committal grunt. “You’re looking out of your element, out there. Bored. I was wondering if something’s wrong.”

Tooru remains silent. 

“You can still talk to me, you know?” he says, hoping to break through the iron wall that his best friend keeps building around himself.

“Am I allowed to have fun, Iwa-chan?”

Hajime's head snaps up.

“What?”

“My mom can’t be here. Your mom’s here, Hanamaki’s mom is here, Mattsun’s parents _both_ came. And me? My mom’s not here. She can’t be. So I’m not sure if,” Tooru's voice gets quiet, a secret whispered between the both of them, “if it’s okay for me to have fun.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Every second I spend with you, and with Makki and Mattsun, I want to laugh. I want to laugh, and smile, and tell the whole world that I’m invincible. But today reminded me that my mom could have been here. She could have been smiling, too.”

Tooru looks up at the sky, tears glinting in his eyes and Hajime feels something tug at his heart.

“She should never have died, Iwa-chan. I feel like, wherever she is, she must be sad and lonely. So I’m not sure if it’s alright for me to pretend like I don’t have a care in the world. For me to laugh like I’m free.”

Hajime leans his forehead against Tooru's leg.

“If your mother’s watching, isn’t it better that you smile?”

“What?” Tooru's voice is wavering. Hajime's not sure whether the water on his cheeks are from Tooru's sweat, or from his own tears.

“If you’re bummed out like this, your mother’ll surely end up worrying about you.”

“Why would she worry? I kil-“

“I don’t know if you’re noticed, but everyone close to you is worried about you. That includes me, and Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. We’re not related to you by blood, we have no familial ties to you. Now imagine how your own mother feels, watching you refuse to have fun on her behalf.”

Tooru's breath hitches. Hajime lifts a hand to slowly, softly run a finger along his best friend’s shin.

“Remember when I saw I would always be looking at you? I know when you’re not feeling up to it. I can tell, and I’m not trying to force you to smile when things get rough. But when you’re having a good time, remember that it’s okay to laugh, yeah?”

When Hajime sits up straight again, Tooru's smiling at him.

  

* * *

 

“Let me carry this,” Hajime says once Tooru's knee is stable enough for him to stand up again. 

“It’s heavy, Iwa-chan, and the teachers asked _me_ t-“

“If it’s heavy,” Hanamaki’s voice breaks through their argument and they both turn around to find their friends standing behind them, “you don’t have to strain yourself carrying the whole thing.”

With that, both Matsukawa and Hanamaki reach for the bag and hoist it up. Hajime stares at the both of them, wide eyed and shocked by their ability to turn the smallest thing into a metaphor. He almost laughs at how cheesy it is, but when he looks at Tooru, the boy is positively _beaming_.

“If everyone grabs hold of it,” Matsukawa says in his quiet drawl, “it’s light as a feather.”

“So don’t feel like you have to carry it all on your own, okay?”

  

* * *

 

“Iwa-chan!” Tooru calls out to him. “If my class wins the relay, will you give me a kiss?”

Hajime slaps his friend on the back of the head, earning an indignant squawk. “That’s ridiculous. You’re not running with your knee in that state.”

Tooru crosses his arms, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I feel fine, Iwa-chan. Plus my team’s counting on me.”

“I’m not kissing you.”

“What about if _I_ kiss _you_?”

“Go race, Trashkawa.”

“That wasn’t a no!” Tooru singsongs as he skips away.

Surely enough, class 1-6 wins.

Surely enough, Tooru comes to claim his reward. It’s a light kiss. It's a soft peck of plump lips against Hajime's cheeks, sending a fire pervading from where their skin met, all the way to Hajime's toes. He knows his cheeks could rival a tomato when he pushes Tooru away.

“Shittykawa,” he whispers. 

Tooru simply winks over his shoulder as he makes his way back to his own team.

 

* * *

  

“What should we do on Christmas?” Tooru asks as he lounges on Hajime's bed. 

“We could go shopping, I guess.”

Tooru hums in affirmation.

“I want to see the shrine with Mattsun and Makki. On the new year. Hold on, let me text them about it.”

There’s a moment of peaceful silence as Tooru writes up the text, and Hajime focuses back on his maths homework. Then, both his and Tooru’s phones vibrate like crazy with their friends’ excited replies and kaomoji spams in the group chat.

“I take it that means yes?”

“It sure does.”

Hajime leans back in his chair. “Let’s spend Christmas Eve together. Then we can meet up with them for the New Year.”

Tooru chuckles. “Greedy, Iwa-chan. You just want me all to yourself.”

He can feel a blush creep up his neck. “Shut up, Trashkawa. I just don’t want you to be alone. And I thought you wanted us to go on a date, anyways.”

Tooru sighs. “We’re not a couple, Iwa-chan.” The statement hurts a lot more than it should. “You don’t have to push yourself for me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then-“

“Oikawa. I am _not_ pushing myself. I’m spending time with you because I _want_ to.”

“Iwa-“

“Shut up.”

 

* * *

  

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru asks that same day, “would you get me chocolates on White Day if I got you chocolates for Valentine's day?”

Hajime feels a vein throb in his forehead. “Isn’t it a bit early to be thinking about this? And I thought you said we weren’t dating.”

Tooru hums. “ _Should_ I get you chocolates on Valentine’s day?”

The led of his pencil breaks with how much force he’s applying to it. “ _Don’t_ get me chocolates for Valentine’s Day,” Hajime growls.

Tooru huffs. “Why don’t you want to-“

“Because you said we _weren’t_ dating!”

Hajime knows he’s being unfair. He wants the chocolates. He wants to give Tooru the chocolates. But the pain of Tooru so blatantly and casually dismissing their potential relationship hasn’t faded yet. He’s bitter, he knows it. He also knows he’s letting it affect him, but they'd both admitted their feelings, their  _mutual_ feelings for each other, so why was Tooru so reluctant to name their relationship something different than friendship?

Tooru's eyes widen for a fraction of a second, before he leans away and returns to his homework.

“I just want to make you happy, too,” he mutters.

  

* * *

 

Iwaizumi returns to the letter on Christmas Eve, after Tooru cancels their plans last second. 

“I’m so sorry Iwa-chan,” he’d said over the phone. “She just collapsed and I’m waiting in the hospital at the moment. I can’t come like we’d planned.”

“Get off the phone,” Iwaizumi’d replied, “and go take care of Aiko-san.”

He sighs, unfolding the letter. It feels unfamiliar, almost.

 

> _December 24th. We had plans to meet up on Christmas Eve, and then spend the rest of Christmas together. Oikawa cancelled last second, saying his caretaker had collapsed and was at the hospital._

 

Then,

 

> _December 31st. We all went to the shrine together, as planned. Oikawa and I had a fight, that day. From then on, there was an unnatural distance between us. We didn’t really talk much after it._
> 
> _In reality, I never got to apologise to Oikawa for hurting him before he died._

 

Hajime would be lying if he said he isn’t worried about the possible outcome of their New Years date.

  

* * *

 

 He’s the first to get to the shrine. Hanamaki and Matsukawa arrive shortly after him. 

“Where’s Oikawa?” Hanamaki asks, voice muffled by the gloves he’s got pressed against his cheeks.

“He says he’s going to be late,” Hajime replies, checking his phone for the billionth time that evening.

“Iwaizumi,” Matsukawa says. “Did your letter say anything about today?”

Hajime nods. “We get into a fight, apparently.”

Matsukawa hums.

   

> _We gathered at the shrine on New Year’s eve. Oikawa was late, but he still came. We ended up having to go buy everyone drinks. Oikawa seemed different that night. Less composed, like his fake persona was crumbling away. When the two of us were alone, he talked about his caretaker. He said ‘if something happened to her, I’d be all alone’._
> 
> _I’ll admit, I was pissed. He was acting as if I didn’t exist. As if I wasn’t there to help him. I told him “You’re not alone, you have me. But now’s the time to forget our troubles. We need to make a good memory of this night.”_
> 
> _For the first time in a long, long time, Oikawa looked legitimately angry at me._
> 
> _“What do you know?” he asked._

 

“Iwaizumi?”

Hanamaki’s voice breaks through his reverie.

“Sorry, a little distracted,” he confesses. “I’m wondering what I should avoid talking about.”

Matsukawa places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re not the only one responsible for changing the future,” he says. “Rely on us a little too. If something goes wrong, we’ll help.”

Hajime nods.

 

> _You probably feel like you know him too well. Like you know every nook and cranny inside his brain. I felt the same, but when I look back at it, I really didn’t. I messed up. I really, really messed up. I told him to forget about our troubles. As if I had any idea what he was going through._
> 
> _Always strive to learn more about him. Ask questions when he looks weird. Don’t assume anything._
> 
> _If he does get angry, please apologise._

 

“Sorry I’m late!” Tooru calls out as he runs up to them, a scarf tightly wound around his neck and his breath coming out in small puffs of mist.

 _He looks cute, Hajime_  thinks, then promptly slaps himself on both cheeks for even thinking that, earning a few worried glances from passerby’s.

“Jackass, we waited so long for you,” he scolds, reaching up to tug at Tooru's hair. The latter whines, until he notices Hajime's outfit.

“You’re not wearing a scarf Iwa-chan? You’ll catch a cold like that,” Tooru chastises, poking with frozen fingers at the back of Hajime's neck.

“Shut up, Shittykawa. Not everyone has an arsenal of clothing like you do.”

Tooru giggles.

 

* * *

 

They get their fortunes at the shrine. 

“Mine says best luck,” Hanamaki announces proudly, practically shoving the small slip of paper into Matsukawa’s face. The other boy mumbles something about ‘good luck’.

Hajime glances down at his, feeling his insides grow cold. The words ‘slightly good luck’ stare back at him ominously. Something tickles his ear and he notices Tooru leaning over his shoulder.

“What did you get, Iwa-chan?”

“Slightly good luck.”

Tooru hums. “Same here.”

The cold feeling inside Hajime intensifies. Tooru isn’t joking about his fortune. He’s not making  a self-centred comment about how he’s always been blessed with perfect luck and a fortune wasn’t going to tell him how to live his life.

 _It’s true,_ he thinks. _He’s different tonight._

“Oi, Oikawa, go buy us some drinks would you?” Hanamaki calls out from where he’s standing, on the grass off of the main path.

“Wait a second, how about you show me some respec-“

“Let’s go, Shittykawa,” Hajime interrupts.

 

* * *

 

“I hope they’ll be okay,” Matsukawa says as Hanamaki drags him toward a bench. 

“They will be, with the way Iwaizumi’s been handling him so far.”

“They _have_ been changing little by little. Still, I have a bad feeling about this.”

Hanamaki reaches up to ruffle his boyfriend’s already messy hair, earning a half hearted protest and a small chuckle.

“You always worry about the little things.”

“Someone’s gotta.”

 

* * *

  

They walk in silence for what feels like forever. 

“I’m so sorry, Iwa-chan,” Tooru pipes up. “Suddenly bailing on you during Chritmas Eve. That was really horrible of me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Hajime mutters, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’d been looking forward to it too,” Tooru whines, a pout forming on his face.

“We always have next year, dumbass,” Hajime argues, reaching up to slap the taller boy on the shoulder. “Stop moping.”

“As long as my caretaker doesn’t get sick again.”

“Is she okay now?”

Tooru nods. “Yep. She was doing much better today, actually, that’s why I was able to come out. At first it was just a regular cold, but it took a turn for the worse on Christmas Eve and really scared me.”

“So that’s what happened.”

“If something happened to her,” Tooru begins, and Hajime freezes mid-step. “I’d be all alone.”

 _Don’t assume, don’t assume,_ Iwaizumi thinks.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Your caretaker should be fine. She wouldn't leave you alone.”

“I thought things would be fine with my mother, too.”

_Shit. I screwed up, didn't I?_

Tooru's not looking at him, and it takes all of Hajime's willpower not to grab the boy by the back of the sweater and turn him around, just to know if he’d messed it up, if he’d gotten Tooru angry. Then, Tooru turns on his own, laughter on his lips. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m getting all gloomy on you, Iwa-chan. And it’s a special holiday, too!”

Hajime sighs. “Don’t worry about it. I told you, you can talk to me whenever you need it.” Tooru hums, but Hajime can’t shake the feeling of dread creeping up his spine.

Tooru's behaviour is scaring him.

It's in the way that fake smile seems more forced than usual. It's in the way his eyes dart around, never meeting anyone’s gaze, especially not Hajime's own. It's in the way his hands clench and relax rhythmically as he speaks the next words.

“I thought things would be fine with my mother. I had no idea she was going to die on me. I still wish I’d been with her at the time.”

 _Oh no,_ Hajime thinks. _It’s that bad habit of his. That self destructive habit._

“Iwa-chan, would you mind if I went home early?” Tooru queries. Panic flares in Hajime’s chest. “My caretaker’s not feeling great, still, and it would eat me up if something happened to her while I was away as well.”

Hajime knows Tooru's request is a sensible one. Even so, he can’t shake the feeling that Tooru might just walk out in front of that oncoming truck on the way home.

“Stay a little longer,” he says. “Your caretaker will be all right, she’s a strong, responsible woman. I promise you, she’s not going to die on you because you spent one evening with us.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Tooru's voice is as cold and sharp as a blade.

 _I can’t tell you,_ Hajime's mind screams at him. _I can’t tell you that I’ve been relying on my future self to make you happy. I can’t tell you that the me from the future’s talked to your caretaker, so I know she’s alive._

“Oikawa,” he says softly, “you just got here. You didn’t even get to enjoy the festivities. Aiko wouldn’t want you to-“

“It was the same on that day, you know,” Tooru interrupts loudly. “I told myself, ‘nothing’s going to go wrong, because my mother’s going to the hospital, where people will take care of her’. So how can you say that everything’s going to be alright, Iwa-chan?” Tooru's voice gets progressively louder. “You have _no_ idea!”

Hajime doesn’t know what to say. Not that Tooru gives him much of a chance to speak in the first place.

“‘All right’,” the taller boy spits. “As if anyone can decide whether things are going to be ‘all right’!”

 _No,_ Hajime thinks. _No, no, no nononono-_

“I thought everything was ‘all right’ when I didn’t know how much my mother was suffering. I thought everything was ‘alright’ when I didn’t know she was hurting to the point that death seemed preferable, and I left her alone!” Tooru looks at the ground, lips twisted in a snarl and fists clenched tightly at his side. “ _I killed her!_ ” he all but shouts. People around them turn around, casting worried glances at the crying boy. Tooru doesn’t notice, though, and he takes a step toward Hajime. “I killed her, Iwa-chan,” he whispers.

For the first time in his _life_ , Hajime has absolutely no idea what to say to comfort his best friend. Tooru watches him warily, before his eyes widen and he jerks back, as if burned.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, taking a step back, and then another. “Sorry. I’m going home.”

Hajime unconsciously reaches for him. The word ‘wait’ doesn’t even have the time to make its way out of his mouth before Tooru's slapping his hand away.

“Don’t touch me,” he growls. “I don’t want to talk anymore.” He takes another step back. “Stay away from me.”

And with that, he turns around and walks away, into the crowd of people, leaving Hajime behind.

 

* * *

  

Hajime doesn’t know he’s crying until he realises that the blurred shape before him is Hanamaki. 

“I couldn’t,” he tries to speak, but hiccups instead. He slaps himself on the chest. Fuck crying. Fuck crying _in public_. “I didn’t manage to prevent-“

“I noticed,” Hanamaki says.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think it’s me you should apologise to. What does your letter say?”

“It told me to apologise.”

“See that?” Hanamaki’s grinning. “Go get him, go apologise, then kiss and make up. It’s almost New Years, you wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity for a New Year’s kiss, would you?”

Hajime pushes his friend away with a growl, before reaching for his phone. Tooru's fast, and by now, he’s most likely always walked half of the way home. He dials Tooru’s number. It rings, and it rings, and it rings, and the other boy does not pick up.

The letter’s words come flashing back in his mind, a grim reminder of what could potentially happen.

  

> _I never got to apologise to Tooru before he died._

 

“Please, pick up,” he whispers. Faintly, in the distance, he can hear the beginning of the countdown. 

“5!”

_Ring._

“4!”

_Ring._

“3!”

_Ring._

“2!”

_Ring._

“1!”

_You have reached the voicemail box of-_

Cheers erupt around him as the New Year starts. People come together, hugging, laughing, kissing. Hajime stands in the middle of them all, phone clenched tightly between shaking fingers and tears dripping down his face.

  

* * *

 

He sits on the bed, the letter hanging limply between his fingers. 

There’s another hastily written paragraph on the page.

 

> _After Oikawa died, the rest of us just… drifted apart. We made new friends. Takahiro and I… well, things happened._
> 
> _I went off to college, Takahiro following closely. Matsukawa cut all contact with us. He only answered our messages when it came to visiting Oikawa’s grave. To be there on April 10th, the date we’d all decided to bury that box._

 

Hajime remembers Tooru choosing the date. It was close to his mother’s suicide date. 

“I want a happy memory to overshadow the sad one, Iwa-chan,” he’d explained when questioned. “We all have to write letters, too! For our future selves.”

   

> _Enough of that depressing shit. You’re here to change it, right? That’s why I’m writing this letter._
> 
> _January 7th. Vacation ended. The fight I had with Oikawa wasn’t resolved by then. That morning, we didn’t walk to school like we usually did. I saw him at the lockers, instead, but I couldn’t even act normal, I felt so guilty._

 

Future Hajime was right about that, too. The moment he spots Tooru, his heart wedges itself in his throat and he can’t even force out a good morning.

“Good morning, Iwaizumi.”

    

> _But Oikawa said ‘good morning’ to me, as if nothing happened. Except he didn’t call me ‘Iwa-chan’, so I didn’t feel at ease._
> 
>  

“I kept trying to get in touch with you, Shittykawa,” he forces himself to say. “You never replied to your messages.”

He knows his voice sounds hoarse. Tooru waves him off.

“Sorry, phone broke.”

Before Hajime can so much as berate him for that, Tooru’s already running away to talk to someone else.

  

* * *

  

> _Oikawa and I… weren’t able to go back to normal, as surprising as it sounds. It was like the 8 years of our friendship just dissipated right under my nose. Whenever I did try to talk to him, he’d run away. I knew he was avoiding me, and it hurt so much that I decided to turn the pain into anger, I guess. I decided to stop chasing him._
> 
> _That’s when Takahiro and I began getting closer._
> 
> _You have to keep chasing._

  

* * *

 

“Oi, Shittykawa, you got a second?”

He knows this isn’t exactly the way he’s supposed to behave, especially around someone who’s feelings he personally hurt. That being said, here he is, leaning against the open door of Tooru’s classroom. Tooru looks at him with wide eyes, before standing up and following silently. If he decided to cause a tantrum in the middle of the classroom, he’d never hear the end of it. Hajime almost praises himself for his social genius.

They reach the top floor of the school building without many interruptions. Those who attempt to stop Tooru in his tracks only have to glance at Hajime once to decide against it.

“I want to apologise,” Hajime says. “I acted out of line during New Years. I was insensitive. I wanted to spend the whole night cheering you up and only managed to make you feel worse.”

He’s not looking at Tooru. Not when his cheeks are burning, his fingers itching to reach for the other boy, and he can feel sweat permeating through his undershirt.

Tooru laughs, though, and Hajime looks up in surprise.

“I’m sorry I acted like such a tool,” Tooru says, voice muffled by his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Iwa-chan. I appreciate the effort, by the way. But it’s my fault for making you worry about me.”

Hajime has to look away again to stop his heart from fluttering at the nickname. God, he’d missed it. He slaps his friend (that’s right, his _friend_ ) on the arm.

“It’s my _job_ to worry about you, Trashkawa. Now can you stop running so we go back to being best friends?”

Tooru laughs again.

“I never ran from you in the first place, Iwa-chan.”

“Bullshit.”

They begin walking down the stairs again. “Want to go home together after practice?” Hajime queries.

Oikawa hums. “I was thinking of doing some after hours today. Practice my jump serves.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Hajime feels anger rising in his chest, tries to push it down.

“It’s not that I _have_ to do it, it’s that I _want_ to do it.”

“And I _don’t_ want you to.” The cold tone of Tooru's voice stings like a whip. “Go home today, Iwa-chan. Please. I’ll take care of myself.”

Hajime wonders, as he watches Tooru duck back into his classroom, whether this is enough to bridge the gap that is slowly forming between the two of them.

 

* * *

 

Although Tooru returns to calling him Iwa-chan, and to his usual loudmouth self, there is still a gap between the two of them. Hajime doesn’t know what to do. 

When Valentine’s Day rolls around, Tooru looks expectantly at him throughout the whole of their lunch break, eyes gradually losing their shine as time passes. He’s got a pile of chocolates on his desk, and more overflowing from his locker. Hajime feels like burning each and every box, knows that it's an irrational feeling. But the fact that these girls could so freely show their feelings for Tooru without receiving his best friend's strangely cold shoulder makes jealousy rear its ugly head inside Hajime.

When they walk home that night and Hajime bids him goodbye without offering him anything, Tooru looks disappointed.

  

* * *

 

Hajime only figures out what Tooru's pointed looks meant when he closes the door behind himself and remembers their conversation before Christmas. Slapping himself, both physically and mentally, for being so stupid, he calls up Oikawa. 

“Wait until White Day, okay?” he says. “Whatever you do, wait until White Day.”

Tooru doesn’t reply, but Hajime does hear the faintest hint of a chuckle on the other end of the line.

  

* * *

  

> _March 14th. The plan was to give him the chocolate and make it known just how I felt about him. How I really felt, I mean. Not this whole ‘you’re my best friend and I love you’ crap. More of a ‘wow I am really in love with you’ sort of speech._
> 
> _But every time I tried to start a conversation with him, I ended up chickening out. Past-me, please don’t chicken out._

 

He’s determined not to.

   

* * *

  

> _The first opportunity I had to give him the chocolate was after chemistry class. I passed Oikawa in the hallway while holding the box of chocolate. When he saw it, he asked me who it was for._

 

Hajime waits after chemistry, box in hand and cheeks blazing. He’s already been asked who the lucky girl was three times. There’s no lucky _girl,_ he wants to scream. He sees Tooru. He sees Tooru's eyes trail down to the box. He sees Tooru's mouth twist. 

He sees Tooru walk away without asking who it was for.

Momentarily frozen on the spot, Hajime panics. This isn’t going down like the letter said it would. He then mentally slaps himself, realising that he’d been waiting for Tooru to make the move, not himself. Berating himself, he makes his way down the hall and back to his classroom, intent on not letting himself be so easily defeated.

  

* * *

 

> _The second time was when lunch finished, and Oikawa came in with a buttload of chocolate boxes. Too many for him to carry. He was leaving a legitimate trail behind him._

 

True to future-Hajime's words, Tooru walks into his classroom carrying a _pile_ of chocolates in his arms. He lets them all drop unceremoniously on the desk and laughs, running a hand through his hair.

“So many girls gave me chocolates on Valentine’s day,” he explains, “I want to make it up to them. But there’s just too much. I’m only halfway done!”

“Forget them.”

The words are out of Hajime's mouth before he can make them sound any less possessive. Tooru’s eyes widen for a moment, but then that sad smile is back on his face.

“Don’t worry, Iwa-chan. I’m not going out with any of them.”

Hajime's hands inch under his desk, where he knows the box of chocolates sits.

“I’m not going out with anyone,” Tooru continues.

“Not anyone?” he finds himself asking.

Tooru shakes his head. “Nope. Not even you, Iwa-chan.”

The bell rings after that. Tooru wordlessly picks up as many chocolates as he can carry, leaving quite a few in his wake again as he walks away.

  

* * *

 

> _The third time was after fifth period. Oikawa was buying a drink from a vending machine._

 

Hajime's breath comes in harsh pants as he runs through the entire school building, trying to find which vending machine his future self meant. Tooru's nowhere to be seen.

   

* * *

 

> _The fourth was my last chance. After school, Oikawa told me ‘good luck giving it to her’ and then left. I should have stopped him when I had the chance, but I wasn’t even able to do that one simple thing._
> 
> _When I look back at it, even today I still feel jittery if I think about how much I felt for him. When I think about how deep my feelings run. I wonder if you’ll be able to throw away your fears and just… come out and say it._
> 
> _But don’t put it off. Don’t think you’ll be able to do it ‘next time’, like I did. There’s no ‘next time’ for Oikawa._

 

The bell rings, and Hajime's out of the classroom before the teacher’s even finished saying his goodbyes. He rushes over to class 1-6, only to find that Tooru's already left. He finds him at the lockers, ready to make his way home. 

Hajime’s not even carrying the chocolates anymore. He’s lost them somewhere on his chase down the stairs. By now they’d be ruined, if not worse. Maybe some random girl had picked it up and pretended it was for her. Maybe a random boy had picked it up, an opportunity to make up for forgotten chocolate.

“I did have chocolates for you,” he says. Tooru looks up at him. His eyes are empty, devoid of any emotion. Hajime hates that expression. He hates how _dead_ his friend looks. “I can’t give them to you because I dropped them, I think. But I can make more.”

“I don’t need chocolates from you, Iwa-chan.”

Tooru's voice is quiet. He closes his locker with a snap and makes to leave, but Hajime grabs his wrist, holding it firmly.

“Wait. I want to talk to you. Even if it’s just for a couple of minutes.”

Tooru doesn’t turn around to look at him.

“I don’t want to have any regrets.”

That seems to catch Tooru's attention. Hajime can see it from the slight tilt of his head. He drags his best friend to one of the more secluded parts of the courtyard, forgetting to take off his indoor shoes.

“You’ve been avoiding me, haven’t you?” Hajime states. It’s not really a question. Not when they both know the answer.

“Yeah,” Tooru answers.

“Why?”

Tooru takes a deep breath. He looks down at the floor, shuffles his feet. The scratching sound doesn’t help dissipate the heavy atmosphere between the both of them.

“I hurt you on New Year’s eve.”

 

> _I got a final text from Oikawa on March 15th. He asked whom I’d given the chocolate to, and apologised for his outburst on New Year’s eve. I sent a reply. I always replied to him, but I’m not sure he read it. I want you to tell him my reply in person. I want you to tell him-_

 

“I wasn’t hurt. Not one bit. I thought I was the one who hurt you,” he says. “But what does hurt is the way we’re acting right now. The way you’re pretending that we don’t have 8 years of friendship behind us. The way you’re pretending that we’re strangers.That hurts a lot more than the way you spoke to me on New Year’s eve.”

Tooru is silent for a while.

“I wanted to,” Tooru pauses, takes in a shuddering breath as he rethinks his words. “I don’t want to hurt you. Ever. And I’ve noticed that I’m hurting you more and more these days and I- I thought you might leave. So I ran instead.”

“I don’t care if I get hurt,” Hajime says. “I don’t care if we fight. We’ll always accidentally hurt each other, that sort of stuff happens. Remember when I gave you a black eye after head-butting you because you were tickling me? That wasn’t intentional. What about New Year’s eve? I hurt your feelings then. You don’t hate me for it, do you?”

Tooru shakes his head.

“And that wasn’t the only time I hurt you, was it?”

“No…”

“Then, what the hell was that for?” Hajime asks, his usual gruffness returning to his voice. Tooru laughs at how natural it all seems, but there are tears in his eyes and he quickly reaches up to wipe them.

“Truth is, Iwa-chan, I really wanted you to give me that chocolate. And when you worked so hard to talk to me, it made me really happy. When you asked me to walk home with you, I felt thrilled. I’m really blessed to have someone like you in my life.”

Tooru leans against the wall.

“But when you asked me to go back to normal, I realised that I can’t. I’m not normal. I’m not the Tooru you grew up with.” He sniffles.

“Bullshit,” Hajime snaps. Tooru stops talking to stare at him, mouth hanging limply, curving in a small 'o' of surprise.

“What?” he finally queries, brown eyes wide.

“I said ‘bullshit’. You’re the same Shittykawa I grew up with. You’re still hardworking as fuck, you’re still smart, you're still the most impressive and ambitious person I know. You’re still full of yourself. You still send me selfies with your stupidly gorgeous face winking and your tongue sticking out. You still have no filter when it comes to pointing out how other people’s love lives are going. You're just as observant as the day I met you, and honestly I never figured out how the hell you're so good at reading people. You’re still clingy, and overdependent. And you still look like a pig when you cry. I don’t see much of a difference. Whatever's changed about you is _normal_ for someone who’s gone through what you have.”

Tooru laughs, then. “You never told me I looked like a pig when I cry.”

“Well you do.”

Tooru sighs, fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt. “I want to be with you, Iwa-chan. In every sense of the word. As a best friend. As a boyfriend. For a short while, or forever. I don’t care.”

“I want that too,” Hajime says, surprised at how level his voice is. “I want to go out.”

Tooru's mouth drops open. “I said I wasn’t going to date anyone, Iwa-chan,” he quickly says.

“Bullshit, again. You’ve joked about it enough for me to know you’re serious. You’ve told me you were the perfect partner for me. You offered to give me chocolate on _Valentine’s_ day, for fuck’s sake. Don’t go telling me you don’t want us together.”

“People would-“

“ _Fuck_ people!” Hajime knows he’s a bit too loud. A teacher pokes her head through the window, spots them and tells them to quiet down. They bow down, apologising quickly, before turning back to each other. “Fuck them,” he continues. “Do you see Hanamaki and Matsukawa getting harrassed every day? They’re not exactly subtle.”

“I don’t.”

“Stop using shitty ass excuses.”

Tooru doesn’t meet his gaze. “I can’t make you happy, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime feels a vein throb in his forehead, feels his eyebrow tick.

“How many times are you going to make me call out on your bullshit in the same conversation? You make me happy every day.”

“I’m definitely going to end up running away again.”

“And I’m definitely going to keep chasing.”

Tooru's shoulders slump. Hajime takes that as his cue to wrap his arms around his best friend, tightening his grip when he hears Tooru's muffled sob against his shoulder.

“I told you, you can trust me to be there,” he says softly. He feels the air grow colder around his neck, knows his skin is wet from Tooru's tears.

“I hate myself, Iwa-chan. It’s stupid because I know I love you, but I can’t bring myself to feel that way about me. Every time I close my eyes, I remember the last words I told my mother. Every time I smile, I feel like she’s off somewhere, being sad by herself. I feel like I don’t have the right to have you be here for me, when I couldn’t be there for my mother. I feel like I don’t have the right to be happy.”

Tooru's breath hitches.

“I want to be happy, Iwa-chan. I just can’t.”

“The fact that you want it is a first step,” Hajime whispers. “We can work with that. As long as you live. As long as you’re strong enough to keep going, that’s enough. Let us help you, too.”

Tooru's arms slowly wrap around his frame.

“Okay.”

 

* * *

 

> _March 15th. In the morning, Oikawa and I walked to school together again, for the first time since our fight. He said, “Isn’t it cold?” and I told him, “That’s because you’re not wearing your scarf, Shittykawa.”_
> 
> _Those are the last words I said to him._

  

Hajime would be surprised if Tooru didn’t figure out something was going on, considering the amount of love Hanamaki and Matsukawa were showing him. The moment they make it to school, Hanamaki greets him with a box full of cream puffs. 

“Good for the soul,” Hanamaki says, tapping his chest. Matsukawa follows close behind, handing Tooru a small phone charm. It’s of Tubbs the Cat.

Iwaizumi wants to destroy it, but that’s completely irrelevant. His hatred for the greedy, virtual cat had to be pushed aside for the sake of Tooru.

Both Hanamaki and Matsukawa raise their phones to show him their matching ones. They gesture for Hajime to do the same, and he pulls it out, his own Xerxes IX charm dangling off the green case.

“Just to show you how important you’ve become to us,” Matsukawa says. He’s blushing to his neck. They leave before Tooru can thank them.

Tooru watches the duo leave, confused, before he turns to Hajime with an urgency that he hasn’t seen in a while. 

“We should switch, Iwa-chan!” he says, grabbing Hajime's phone in an attempt to tug the charm off of it. “You’re obviously the fatty in this friend group, so Tubbs fits you better!”

“What th- don’t you dare!”

 

* * *

 

When he steps into the bathroom, Hanamaki’s there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He raises a brow in question, and Takahiro simply points to one of the locked cubicles. 

“Anxiety attack,” he explains with a shrug. “We’re kind of worried about today, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Same,” Hajime answers. “I asked Oikawa to come home with us after practice, today, but he says he has to skip it. Something about taking his caretaker to the hospital for one last check up.”

Hanamaki clicks his tongue.

“That makes things… more difficult.”

“Let’s sabotage his bike,” comes Matsukawa’s voice from the cubicle. Hanamaki laughs, clamping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

“That’s illegal, I think.”

“Does it matter?”

Hajime shrugs. “We can’t pressure him to come with us, so we’ll just have to adapt.”

Hanamaki sighs. “Will he be okay on his own? Practice doesn’t finish until 6…”

“The accident happened at 8PM, right?” Matsukawa asks, stepping out of the cubicle. He’s pale, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his exposed skin. Hanamaki hands him a towel.

“Yeah,” Hajime confirms. 

“Then let’s go wait for him at that intersection. If we can’t stop him with his words, we’ll have to stop him physically.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the door to the bathroom opens to reveal Tooru, who looks surprised to find them all gathered here.

“What’re you guys talking about? This looks ominous. Some kind of cult meeting?”

Hajime shrugs.

“We were discussing your shitty personality.”

“Iwa-chan! That’s mean!”

 

* * *

 

“Aiko-chan?” Tooru says quietly as he opens the door to his caretaker’s room. “Where are my mom’s photos?”

The woman pokes her head out of the walk in closet, brows furrowed. “Why do you ask?”

Tooru shrugs. “I want to see them.”

Aiko’s face relaxes into a smile.

“They’re in the back room, in the closet.”

He rummages through the random belongings before he finally finds the box. Something falls out of it and lands on the ground with a dull thud. He picks it up, curious, to find that it’s his mother’s phone.

Without really knowing why, he moves back to his room and plugs it in. He waits for the screen to light up before he goes to the messages.

_560 read, 0 unread._

_1 unsent._

Tooru frowns. One unsent text?

 

> _I’m sorry, Tooru._
> 
> _I went to the hospital by myself._
> 
> _Have you made some new friends? I hope you have. I hope they take your mind off what’s hurting you._
> 
> _I suppose I should apologise about a lot of things. I noticed that your volleyball activities were taking a toll on your health. You cried a lot more, screamed a lot more, and worked yourself to exhaustion. When you hurt your knee, I thought that would be the end of me._
> 
> _I thought, maybe preventing you from doing it again would help. I’m still not sure, as I write this, whether it was to protect myself or to protect you. I suppose it was both. That’s why I threw away your volleyball clothes. That’s why I asked you not to join a club. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself again. To hurt me, too._
> 
> _I’m sorry for being so selfish. I was trying to help you, and in doing so, I’m the one who hurt you._
> 
> _From now on, I want you to have fun, Tooru. I want you to do what you want. What you’ve always wanted to do._
> 
> _I’m so sorry, Tooru. I love you._
> 
> _I won’t get in the way again. I won’t be selfish again._

 

Tooru drops the phone in favour of clamping a hand over his mouth. He feels sick.

So it was his fault. _It really was his fault._ He was responsible for his mother's death. Disgust crawls up and down his throat as he staggers to his feet. Frantically, he wipes at his eyes and makes his way down the stairs, ignoring Aiko’s question about where he is headed.

There’s only one thing he can do.

 

* * *

 

The hour stares back at Hajime, as if taunting him. 

_19:35._

Next to him, Matsukawa repeats “don’t do it” over, and over again. Hanamaki’s quiet, eyes boring into the side of the road.

“Stay away,” Hajime whispers, eyes gliding from the screen of his phone to the junction on the road.

 

* * *

 

10 minutes past 8 PM, Tooru is still a no show. 

“He didn’t come here,” Hajime states, surprised by how calm he manages to sound, considering his heart is hammering in his chest. He feels like if it beat any harder, his ribs would crack open, allowing his heart to flutter out into the cool night air. Matsukawa’s trembling next to him, and Hanamaki releases a breath he’s been holding in for way too long.

“If he isn’t thinking about killing himself, that’s good,” he continues, “but I want to check at his house, just in case.”

When they ring the doorbell, it’s his caretaker who answers the door. “Iwaizumi-kun!” she greets. “It’s nice to see you! I thought Tooru went out to meet up with you boys, I didn’t realise you were looking for him.”

Hajime's stomach feels like a stone.

“He’s not home?”

Aiko shakes her head, a worried frown replacing her earlier smile. “He went out a few minutes ago, without telling me where he was going, either.”

“We’ll look for him,” Hajime promises, already making his way back to Tooru’s front gate.

“Why doesn’t this match the letters?” Matsukawa asks as they run back down the street.

“We changed the future too much,” Hanamaki answers. “I thought this would happen at some point.”

“If he still kills himself, have we changed anything?” Hajime hisses through gritted teeth. They’re running past other houses now, down different roads. There’s still no sign of Tooru.

The other two don’t reply.

   

> _My main worry about writing this letter is that there’s no guarantee it’ll work out. You could stop him from killing himself that night, and he could still end up doing it at a later date anyways._
> 
> _Changing the future, that’s not enough._
> 
> _Changing his mind, his heart, now that’s what’s going to do it._

  

They split off, suddenly. Hajime runs in one direction, Hanamaki runs in another. Matsukawa’s disappeared. 

It’s then that Hajime sees him. Tooru's standing in the middle of the road, body illuminated by the lights of an oncoming truck. Hajime screams, and then there’s the telltale sound of a horn blaring, the screech of tires slipping against concrete, and Hajime falls to the floor as he sees Tooru disappear behind the truck.

The vehicle swerves, then keeps driving, speeding up at the intersection. Hajime doesn’t have the mind to curse the driver, he runs to where Tooru's lying down on the floor, expecting the absolute worst. His eyes still haven't adjusted to the darkness, from the bright lights of the truck, and he cannot tell whether the dark spots beneath his best friend's body are just his shadow, or blood.

“Tooru!” he calls out, over and over, fearing the worst. He kneels next to his friend to lift the boy’s head off the floor.

Tooru isn’t dead.

He’s staring up at him with eyes full of fear and tears dripping down his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” Hajime asks.

“Oikawa!”

Hanamaki’s running down the road too, closely followed by Matsukawa.

“Is he alright?” Mattsun asks.

“Are you hurt?” Hanamaki echoes.

“Why the _hell_ did you do that?” Hajime all but yells, effectively stopping his two friends from fawning any harder over Tooru.

“I wanted to die,” Tooru answers quickly, his voice a flurry of panic and leftover adrenaline. “I thought I had to apologise to my mother for being a horrible child, and I'd need to go to Heaven for that.”

Hajime wants to scream about how stupid that idea was.

“But I couldn’t do it,” Tooru says, after a small pause, and Hajime looks down at him, surprised. “It’s like suddenly, I was afraid to die.”

He looks up at Hajime, reaches up to wrap his arms around his neck. “I realised if I died, I’d lose all the memories I have with you.” There are tears spilling down his cheeks, and Hajime's sure that they’re all crying by now. “I realised I wouldn’t be able to laugh with you guys, or play volleyball anymore, or hear Iwa-chan greet me in the mornings. I wouldn't be able to eat milk bread, I wouldn't be able to cook you agedashi tofu like I've been learning how to for a while now. We wouldn't have our movie nights and I wouldn't be able to hug you anymore and-”

Oikawa sniffles.

“I realised I didn’t want to die just yet.”

“Thank God,” Hajime whispers, letting his head drop onto Tooru's shoulder. “Thank God.”

Tooru scoots closer to him, wraps his arms tighter around Hajime. They remain like that for a while, the silence only broken by the occasional hiccup and broken sob.

When Tooru pulls away, it’s to wipe his snot on his sleeve. “Wait… Why- how are you all here?” he asks.

“Because of the letters.”

They all turn to Hanamaki, who pulls the stack of papers out of his blazer pocket to hand it to Tooru. Although he lets go of Hajime's neck in order to read it, Hajime doesn’t release his hold on the other boy’s shoulders.

“These were sent to us by our future selves,” Hanamaki explains, “telling us that you killed yourself tonight, and that we should save you.”

Tooru looks dumbfounded as he reads Hanamaki’s entries.

“Most of this is spot on!” he exclaims, flicking through the papers with wide eyes. Hajime hums in assent.

“We’re not the only ones who got a letter from the future,” Matsukawa pipes in. He’s holding a letter addressed to ‘ _Oikawa_ ’ in his slanted scrawl. Hajime takes his cue to pull out the one enclosed in his letter from of his own pocket. Hanamaki also hands him one.

   

> _Dear Oikawa, I’m sorry that I didn’t worry about you. I thought you were so strong, for being able to remain happy and smile even after all that happened to you. I’m sorry that I didn’t see just how weak you felt. - Hanamaki Takahiro_
> 
>  
> 
> _Dear Oikawa, I often think about what I should have done differently in order to keep you alive. Should I have done this, or that? Where did I go wrong? I should just have chosen what would make you, all of us, happiest. I’m sorry. - Matsukawa Issei_
> 
>  
> 
> _Dear Oikawa, where do I even begin? I’m sorry that I let my anger get to my head. I’m sorry that I ignored you when you needed me the most. I’m sorry that I gave up on pestering you and taking care of you. I’m sorry that I didn’t notice just how broken you were. I wish I’d kept a closer eye on you. I’m so, so sorry that I let my own pain and frustration blind me to the point I stopped realising how much you were hurting too._

 

Tooru's crying so hard, fat tears rolling down his cheeks one after the other without pause, that Hajime wonders if he can even read the words on the pages. 

“Our future selves all felt like shit after losing you,” Hanamaki states, interrupting Tooru's lecture. “My future self described himself as being weighed down by so many regrets he can barely live with himself. Even after 8 years. He'll probably feel that way for the rest of his life.”

Tooru looks down to the floor at that. “It’s all my fault,” he breathes.

“No, it’s not,” Hanamaki begins, but is promptly interrupted by Hajime.

“Yes it is. It is your fault. So I swear to God, Trashykawa, if you die on me, I will personally bring you back to life so I can kick your ass all the way to hell.”

Tooru chuckles wetly, before reaching up to grasp at Hajime's shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he says. "I’m sorry.”

Hanamaki shakes his head. “No, _we’re_ sorry. I knew what was going to happen that day. We all did. The letters told us, and I didn’t believe them. We still asked you to go out with us. Even though Iwaizumi tried to argue against-”

“Don’t apologise for that,” Tooru cuts in. “I would still not have gone home, even if you didn’t ask me to go out with you. I’m thankful that you did, actually. I’m really, really grateful.”

As Hajime holds his boyfriend, Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s arms wrapped around both of them, he thinks to himself.

_Please, don’t let the future change. Let this moment, this genuine smile sitting on Oikawa’s face last forever._

 

* * *

  

> _Dear Oikawa, do you forgive us? I was still a high school student, back then. I didn’t understand what precious moments I was spending with you. I didn’t know what you were going through. I took you for granted, and only realised that when you were gone. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I go to bed every night haunted by these memories._
> 
> _I wish I’d kept a closer eye on you._
> 
> _If you give us one more chance to make things right, we’ll do everything in our power to protect you._
> 
> _I hope you can forgive us._
> 
> _I hope you can forgive me._
> 
> _I hope you choose life._
> 
> _April 10th, Spring of our 23rd year, will you join us this time?_
> 
> _We’ll be waiting for you._
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Your Iwa-chan_

  

* * *

 

“Come on, Iwa-chan, stop making that face and help me!”

“Shut up, Trashkawa, you’re even more annoying like this.”

“Annoying or not, you should really be putting your big muscles to use,” Tooru continues, handing him a shovel. “I’m hoping to bury this time capsule now, not in three years.”

Grumbling, Hajime grabs the shovel with a little more force than necessary, making Tooru stumble forward with a chuckle. He only has to dig for a few minutes before the hole is deep enough to bury the small box. Once he places the shovel down on the floor, they each hand their letters over to Hanamaki, who tenderly places them in the tin box.

“What did you write, Oikawa?” Hajime asks, watching as Hanamaki places the box down into the floor.

“It’s a secret!” Tooru replies with a wink, throwing up a peace sign for good measure. Hajime whacks him on the back of the head.

 

* * *

  

> _Dear everyone, 8 years into the future, are you all well? Are you still friends? I bet Iwa-chan’s got wrinkles from how much he frowned all day! Have Mattsun’s eyebrows stopped looking like caterpillars? Has Makki finally beaten Iwa-chan in arm wrestling?_
> 
> _What am I doing, at this moment, 8 years from now?_
> 
> _Am I still playing volleyball?_
> 
> _Am I married to Iwa-chan? Is that even legal?_
> 
> _Am I truly alive, every single day?_
> 
> _My wish is to keep living, no matter how hard it gets. Did you manage that, Future Tooru?_
> 
> _I hope you did._
> 
>  
> 
> _Sincerely,_
> 
> _Oikawa Tooru_

 

* * *

  

“You look really happy, Oikawa,” Hajime points out as they walk home. Tooru snorts.

“That’s because I am, Iwa-chan!”

Hajime smiles, delighted that his boyfriend can freely speak that way. He takes a few steps forward, until he realises that the shuffling sound of footsteps at his side has ceased. He turns to find Tooru watching him. 

“What is it?” he asks. 

Tooru smiles. “I’m just very glad to be alive,” he says. “Thank you. For helping me.”

Hajime smiles. There’s the sound of Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s laughter somewhere in the background, but all he can focus on is Tooru, and the way his grin lights up his whole face.

“Idiot,” he says, holding his hand out for Tooru to latch onto. “You won’t ever have to cry on your own again. Even if the day comes when you find just living to be painful, then I promise, I’ll swoop in and save you. Again, and again, and again.”

Tooru laughs. 

“Come on, let’s go home.”

 

* * *

  

It’s April 10th, Oikawa’s chosen date, when they bury their good memories in the time capsule. 

It’s April 10th, when Iwaizumi holds his best friend’s hand tightly in his as they walk, and it sends sparks racing across his skin. 

It’s April 10th, when Hajime feels the plush softness of Tooru's lips against his own for the first time.

It's April 10th, when Hajime discovers that Tooru wears blueberry chapstick, and that he doesn't mind the taste of it on his tongue at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> if u made it this far congratulations 
> 
> find me on seijoh-no@tumblr and seijounodraws@twitter
> 
> please scream if you think this is really bad i need to know lmao
> 
> [MAJOR EDIT: Due to the recent airing of the Orange anime, I know people might be more inclined to read this (oh god this sounds so self centered asdhiuhg anyhow I dont mean it in a rly conceited way sorry) but I basically entirely revised this fic. I changed A LOT of things, mostly made Hajime's romantic feelings toward Tooru a lot more obvious and a lot more gradual. I changed some parts that felt forced and stocky. I changed the flow of the whole story. Fixed up some continuity issues and some "white day" vs "valentine's day" issues. Changed the letters, changed Hajime's tone, added some fixes here and there, and hopefully this will be a much better read than the first time I posted this XD you can still scream at me if you think this is terrible!!!]


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